


Klaus Hargreeves and the Monster

by Feech



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Addictive Behavior, Candy, Cynophobia, Fear, Klaus's 3D Ben-channeling powers have not yet been used, Nudity, Other, Recovery, cuddling brothers, mild recklessness with domestic animals, non-sexual naked sibling bed-sharing, placebos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feech/pseuds/Feech
Summary: Klaus has been terrified of dogs since he was six years old. His siblings know this about him. To help Klaus adjust after inpatient treatment, his brothers and sisters buy him a large, scary dog. This is just one of the ways in which they show their love.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Dolores & Klaus Hargreeves, Dolores/Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	1. Sweet Peas

**Author's Note:**

> The Apocalypse problem was settled without the use or recognition of Klaus's physical channeling abilities.
> 
> Many loving thanks to my husband [J. Channing Wells](http://skin-horse.com/) for the invaluable beta read.
> 
> ************

Klaus walked out of the clinic at the end of his inpatient treatment and ran smack into a wall of Luther. Luther wrapped his massive arms around Klaus. His sleeves were rough against Klaus's cheeks and neck, and his coat smelled slightly musty. Luther clamped one hand down on top of Klaus's head, and one of his big, hard coat buttons shoved against Klaus’s cheekbone.

Luther said, "I want you to know that you are a valued and loved part of my family." He eased off on the hug, and Klaus patted Luther on the chest and backed into Allison.

"A sibling ambush," said Klaus. "How sweet!" There was no escape. He knew Allison was too fast for him. She might, however, provide an explanation for Luther's conduct. Klaus leaned toward Allison and frantically stage-whispered her name, with a gesture toward Luther.

"He's been reading about how to support you," Allison explained.

Klaus said, "That's a relief."

She steered him to the curb. "Here's our cab."

Klaus tried to take a step back, but Allison's arm against him was unyielding. He said, "Thank you, dears. I can get home on my own. Just have to make a couple of stops first. I'll meet you at the house."

Allison said, "Before you went into care this time you asked us to help you when you got out. You're out, and this is us, helping. We’re taking you home."

"But—before care—I was high! Why would you listen to anything I say when I'm high?"

Luther got himself folded into the cab, Allison urged Klaus in and squeezed in beside him. On the ride home, Allison said, "I think you'll be excited to hear that we got you a pet. Sort of a therapy animal."

"Like a … like a dog?"

Luther said, "We got you a—"

"It's a cat," Allison said quickly.

"Oh, Allison, you got me a kitty?"

Allison smiled. Klaus went on speaking. "There was a 'therapy animal' dog at inpatient. They wanted me to touch it. Said that it would lower my blood pressure. Everybody else was touching it. Even that betrayer Ben was touching it, or pretending to. At least his hand wasn't in danger."

At the house, Allison waited while Luther got himself out of the cab, then she slid out and let Klaus follow her. Luther took Klaus's elbow. "I'm capable of walking to the door, Luther," Klaus protested.

The iron gate leading to the front entrance stoop stood open. Just inside the gate, in front of the shadow created by the recess, stood two new, huge, chestnut-brown pots planted with sweet pea vines.

The vine on the right-hand side was abundant with peachy-red blossoms. It climbed the fence, curling around and spilling between the iron bars. The left-hand vine had only a pair of green leaves and one brilliant blossom poking out from a mass of what looked like tangled dead grass.

Allison gestured at the struggling vine and smiled apologetically. "We did our best."

The sweet peas' fresh fragrance reached Klaus's nose from several feet away, but to show his appreciation he went to the one blossom on the mostly-brown vine and supported it delicately between two fingers. He touched it to his nose, and sighed his way through a long, luxuriant sniff. When Klaus straightened up again, Luther plunked a hand down on his shoulder and said gravely, "Everyone has done a lot to help you adjust at home. Number Five and I built you—"

Allison made a discouraging sound. Luther glanced at her, then said to Klaus, "Well, it's a … surprise. I guess. But I hope you appreciate what everyone has done for you. I'll let you go inside and see everything. I just came along to help Allison see you home."

Klaus asked anxiously, "Aren't you living here?"

"Yeah. I'll be back later. Here." Luther undid a button and dug in his inside coat pocket. "This is for you." He handed Klaus a rolled-up white T-shirt.

Klaus unrolled it and gave it a smoothing shake. In large, black print it read: "Hugs Not Drugs". Around and beneath the printing, Allison, Vanya, Number Five, Diego, and Luther had signed their names.

"You all signed it?"

Allison said wryly, but with a fond glance at Luther, "He towered over us with a permanent marker."

Klaus pulled the shirt on over his clothes. It was so big that at first he couldn't differentiate the sleeves from the collar, and put his arms through the wrong hole. The shirt fell past his hips and the neck hole slid over one shoulder. "Bought it in your size, I see," he said to Luther. Klaus stretched out the front of the shirt and looked down at the signatures. "In one way, I feel somewhat condescended to. But in another way…" He took off the shirt and rolled it up again.

Luther said, "Allison, do we have to do it this way? Why can't we do my plan?"

"No, you'd better go now, Luther."

"Okay," Luther said softly. He fixed Klaus with an earnest gaze. "Remember. I love you."

"Love you too, giant buddy," said Klaus.

Luther nodded and trudged away toward the sidewalk.

Klaus watched him go. "What is Luther's plan?"

Allison answered, "You don't want to know. Let's go in. Diego is waiting for you."

Inside the entrance hall, a couch faced the door. At one end of the couch stood a lion statue that Klaus had long been familiar with, and at the other end sat an unfamiliar gargoyle or dog statue. Diego was sitting on the couch. Klaus went forward with arms open to hug him—and the dog-gargoyle moved its head. Klaus recoiled, shrieked, and ran for the stairs. He clung to the banister, peeped over it and saw that Diego had the gargoyle on a leash.

"Diego!" His voice was high-pitched. "What is that thing?"

"This is Torgo," said Diego. "He's a Bullmastiff."

"Well, if it's part bull, that explains the size. Allison!" Klaus made a pleading gesture. "You promised me a cat."

"Upstairs," said Allison.

Klaus was glad to go upstairs. "Don't let it follow me," he said to Diego.

Diego twisted his fist so Klaus could see how tightly he gripped the leash. "I've got him."

Allison went up ahead of Klaus and pushed open the door to a sitting room off the gallery.

Seeing teenaged Number Five after some time away gave Klaus a weird jolt, as if he had traveled through time himself. Five sat on the settee with a book propped up on a ball of white animal on his lap; he was slim, and so small that his feet barely touched the floor. Klaus felt bizarrely tall; he wanted to be his past height, his right size compared to Number Five.

Number Five set aside his book, picked up the animal from his lap and stood to greet Klaus. "Here's your cat."

"Look at this! She's pure white!" Klaus gathered up the cat. His fingers sank deeply into dense fur, and the cat blinked agreeably up at him. One of her eyes was a golden green, and the other was blue. "Does she have a name?"

"Her name is Mistie."

"That's beautiful. Hi, Mistie." Klaus nuzzled the cat's pink nose. The cat purred.

"Better let me take her back," said Number Five, "so Allison can show you what else we have for you, in the next room."

"Another present?" Klaus loaded Mistie into Number Five's arms. "Better not take her downstairs. Have you seen what Diego has down there?"

"I won't," said Number Five. "I've seen."

Klaus followed Allison through the connecting door into the next room. The room was filled with the noise of the lively chatter of what sounded like a flock of small birds—and it was. Running almost the length of the room, from one far corner to the hallway door, was a screened-in wooden frame. It enclosed about fifteen or twenty chirping, flapping, whirring, screeching budgerigars. Some climbed the screen; some spun upside-down on wooden swings, holding on by one foot; some hopped from one natural branch perch to another, walking up and down and pausing to tap beaks with each other.

Across the room, sunlight came in at the parted curtains, and the aviary was also lit brightly from above. "We put in a full-spectrum light," said Allison. "We're hoping it will keep these plants alive."

Around the outside of the aviary, window-box style planters held flowering houseplants. The room's small fireplace had been boarded up and painted over. Near one of the windows stood a palm in a pot, and around it were arranged a few small, wrought iron chairs that had been painted white.

"Let me introduce you to the birds," said Allison. "You have to duck down because if the door was regular height they might fly out over your head."

Klaus softly but eagerly clapped his hands. "We can just go in with them?"

"Yep." Allison unlatched a screen door in the end of the frame. The budgerigars surged toward the opposite end of the aviary. They perched sideways-on to Allison and Klaus and eyed them. The birds made nibbling motions with their beaks, but the chattering stopped.

"Look at all the colors," said Klaus. "This is amazing."

"Some of them are tame," said Allison. "Let me see if I can get one, so I can show you." She reached up slowly, presenting the side of her forefinger to the parakeets. The birds twitched their wings and stepped away on their perches, collecting in nervous bunches. Finally, a white budgie with a smattering of ragged spots turned toward Allison's finger instead of edging away. She slowly brought her finger under its chest, and it stepped on, fluffed up its feathers and shook itself out. It stayed on her finger, and Allison grinned triumphantly. "There, see?"

"Let me try. I want to try. Ooh, look at this one." Klaus had spied a budgie of clean, glowing white with large blue spots. One or two of the others had washed-out baby blue markings, and one was of a violet hue, but this one's spots were deep, sky blue. Otherwise it had only a little black and white striping on the back of its neck. Klaus hesitantly put his finger out to it. "Is he tame?"

"The worst he can do is nip you or fly away, so go ahead and try to get him on your finger," said Allison. "Press at his chest until he puts his foot up. You won't hurt him."

It seemed to Klaus that the budgie was shivering as his hand approached it. He expected it to skitter away on the perch, but then he felt the cool brush of the budgie's chest feathers. The tiny bird picked up one foot and rested it on Klaus's finger. Klaus eased up into the downy warmth on the bird's chest, and the budgie leaned forward, brought up the other foot and balanced on Klaus's finger. Klaus suppressed a gasp. "He did it. I got him to sit my finger. His little feet feel so funny." Klaus steadily brought his finger closer to his face. He pursed his lips at the budgie and the budgie moved its beak in what seemed to be a pleased fashion. "He's the most poetically-colored bird I've ever seen. Does he have a name?"

"I don't think so," said Allison. "You can pick one out for him." The bird on her finger fluttered to a perch.

Klaus looked over at Allison slowly, so as not to startle his own budgie, and asked, "So, what is this? What am I supposed to do, sit in one of the chairs there and watch the birds while I recuperate from being a hopeless addict?"

"Not quite," said Allison. "At least, not yet." Her brief smile looked suspiciously like a smirk around one corner of her mouth.

Klaus's brow took on a worried furrow and he watched that corner. "Tell me why, when I'm surrounded by loving, supportive family, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop?"

Allison said, "I've been holding that second shoe off the ground since we picked you up at the clinic. It drops now." She pointed at the spotted bird on Klaus's finger. "That little parakeet's life is in danger."

Klaus instinctively cupped his free hand in a protective gesture in front of the tiny bird. "Why, is he sick or something?"

"No," said Allison. "He's fine, as far as I know."

"Then what—"

Allison went to the door at the end of the aviary and opened it. Klaus asked, "How do I get him off my finger again?"

"The same way you got him on, except you use the perch the way you used your finger. Hold his chest against the perch until he stands on it."

While Klaus was accomplishing this, Allison crossed to the door to the sitting room. She cracked it open and said, "Number Five, you can bring Mistie in here now."

"Oh, you are not bringing that cat in here," said Klaus. "Cats eat birds. Wait, Allison, make him wait. I'm coming out and then I have to get the door latched behind me." He backed carefully out of the aviary and gave the door a tug to make sure it was secure.

Number Five came into the room, carrying Mistie. He took her over by the aviary, and she leaned across his arm for a better look through the screen. Her tail twitched, and she made big feet, pricking Number Five's sleeve with her claws. "See all the tasty little morsels?"

Klaus asked, "The cat can't get in there, can she?"

"It's cat proof," said Number Five. "I'd have to put her in there myself."

"But you wouldn't do that," said Klaus.

"Under specific conditions I certainly would," said Number Five.

"What conditions?" Klaus pulled one of the little wrought iron chairs over near the aviary. "I'm going to sit right here and make sure you don't let the cat in."

"All right," said Number Five. He handed Klaus a folded bill. "Here's fifty dollars."

Klaus took it. "I don't—I don't understand."

"There's no food in this house for any of the animals."

"That doesn't help me to understand."

"You have to go buy the food," said Number Five.

"All right, I can go shopping, I can do that," said Klaus, but his tone was uncertain. He crinkled the fifty dollar bill in his fingers and looked to Allison for clarification. "This is the other shoe, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Allison. "This is the evil plan."

Number Five said, "You have one hour. If you are not back with food for all three kinds of animals within an hour after you leave the house, I'm going to put the cat in with the birds. An hour on the dot."

"Wait—three kinds of animals?"

Number Five nodded. "Dog, cat, birds. If you don't come back with food, we release the cat with the birds. And then ten minutes later, the dog will be set loose in the same room with the cat."

"The dog—the dog from downstairs? That thing?"

"That thing," confirmed Number Five. "After the cat has been loose in the aviary for ten minutes, which is time to do plenty of damage, we'll bring the dog upstairs to this room."

Klaus narrowed his eyes at Number Five, then checked the expression on Allison's face. "You're acting. You're an actress."

Allison gave him a pitying look and said kindly, "I have to go."

"But you'll be back, right? You'll be staying here, right?"

Allison shook her head. "I can't stay, but I'll visit you." She leaned toward Klaus, leaving space between their bodies. Her hair brushed his neck. She barely pressed his shoulders with her hands.

"Be sure to leave room for the Holy Ghost, Allison," said Klaus bitterly.

Allison straightened, gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder, and departed through the hallway door. Mistie purred and continued to knead Number Five's sleeve. Number Five said, "Did I mention that this kitty is deaf in one ear? It makes it harder for her to hear the dog coming for her."

Ben spoke. "They'll release the dog with the cat after the cat has had time with the birds. Just go and get food for the cat. Then you can come back sooner, in less than an hour, feed the cat, and go back out and get birdseed and dog food."

Klaus pointed at Ben. "That. I can go find some cat food. Some milk or—no, cream, or something. Sardines. Then kitty will be happily eating."

"Good idea," said Number Five, "but the cat is going away with me until the end of the hour. I won't let her eat anything you bring before you also have dog and bird food. You have to have food for all three kinds of animals."

"I don't believe it," said Klaus. "You won't do it. You'll send me out on a wild goose chase for animal food, and in the meantime you'll feed them and pet them and let the cat sleep in your room."

"Look me in the eye and say that you don't believe that I would kill all these animals just to straighten you out."

Klaus looked into Number Five's eyes and tried to say it. "Oh my God."

Number Five nodded toward the money in Klaus's hand. "Better get started."

"I'll get Vanya," said Klaus. "She'll stop all you maniacs."

"Vanya couldn't be here," said Number Five. "Here's the note she left for you along with her love." He supported the cat over his elbow, took a neatly folded slip of paper from his pocket with his other hand, and passed it to Klaus.

A squiggle of dread ran down the inside of Klaus's spine, behind his diaphragm and over his stomach. He read:

> Dear Klaus,
> 
> I couldn't be there because we all agreed that I might try to help you too much. I believe in what they're doing, but I wouldn't be able to participate. I should say, I not only believe in the plan, I also believe in you.
> 
> Love, Vanya

"I don't understand. How could she help me too much? Are none of you going to help me? I thought … I thought you were going to help me."

"We are," said Five. "You will have all the help you need. But Vanya won't be here to pick up after you. Your responsibilities are your own. She won't feed the birds if you're out on a two-day high. She would do something like that, and she's not here so she can't."

"You can't rely on me getting back in time. You have to let that little blue-spotted parakeet go free."

"We can't do that," said Number Five. "They can't live on their own in the city."

"What do all these animals eat? What do parakeets eat? Like— crackers? Polly want a cracker type of deal or … breadcrumbs?"

"That's for you to figure out," said Number Five.

Klaus took Mistie's furry white cheeks in his hands while Number Five held her in his arms. "Mistie, can you not eat the birds? Can you be good for Daddy? If mean old Number Five puts you in that big cage, just don't even see temptation. Cover your eyes with your paw, like this." Klaus demonstrated with his own wrist over his eyes.

Number Five said, "Mistie and I are gonna go someplace inaccessible for a while."

"Five, No. Wait," begged Klaus. "Don't start the timer yet. I'm not dressed for walking around town and shopping. I need to change clothes."

Number Five gave a small nod of permission.

Klaus went down to Allison's bedroom and picked out a green silk dress and a faux-mohair jacket. In his own room he found a pair of boots. He climbed the stairs to the gallery and paused to lean in at the open door to the aviary room. "Number Five, wait just a second. I have to go to the attic."

Klaus tossed junk aside in the attic and found an antique bird cage, small enough to carry. He brought it to the aviary and took it inside with him. Klaus got the sky-blue-spotted budgie to step onto his finger, slowly moved him through the door of the small cage and encouraged him to climb off. "He's coming with me. I won't have him on Mistie's conscience."


	2. Klaus Goes Shopping

Number Five waited through Klaus's preparations. Then he said, "Timer starts now," and vanished, taking the purring cat with him.

Now that he was alone, Klaus's whole world miniaturized and formed a focal point on the fifty-dollar bill in his pocket. He squeezed and stroked the bill, wondering how to take his mind off of it.

The restless budgie climbed all around the bars of the little cage, making small clanging noises as he grabbed on using feet and beak. The sound drew Klaus’s attention. "Right. Food for the pets. Fifty dollars. Money. Birdseed. Meat. Cream."

He thought of Ben's suggestion of feeding the cat first. Number Five had said there was no food in the house for any of the animals, but Klaus knew there had to be cream, or at least half-and-half, in the fridge. He went down to the kitchen, and Diego was there with the dog on a leash. They stood between Klaus and the refrigerator.

Klaus went around to the opposite side of the island, set the birdcage on the far end, and came at the fridge from that side, keeping Diego's body between himself and the dog. The fridge contained real cream. Klaus found a shopping bag on a hook on the back side of a cabinet door under the sink, and dropped the half-pint carton of cream into the bag.

He checked the sparsely-stocked refrigerator for meat and was digging in the freezer when Pogo came into the kitchen. “Hey, Pogo! Do we have any steak? Or anything that—" he jabbed a finger indicatively at the dog "—could eat?”

Pogo glanced at the dog and reached for it as if to pat its head. Diego said, "Better not, Pogo.”

Pogo murmured, "Of course," and withdrew his paw. The dog sloppily licked its chops. Pogo said to Klaus, "There is a reasonably priced butcher shop three blocks away, around the corner to the left.”

Klaus picked up his birdcage. “Thanks Pogo, _Vous et un_ brick!”

Klaus walked the three blocks and found the shop Pogo had recommended. The door was propped open. A big, broad-shouldered guy behind the counter said, “This is a food store, you can't bring your bird in.”

“It's life or death," said Klaus. “Isn't there a magic word, some politically-correct ‘open sesame’, something I can say to make you let me bring him in? There has to be something. I know this guy who has a monkey and he takes it everywhere with him.”

“I'm glad I never met this guy, or at least his monkey,” said the butcher-shop man.

Klaus stood on the small, tiled stoop, holding his budgie’s cage. “Help me out, here. Be a friend. What's the magic word?”

“Sorry, pal, if you can't say it, I'm not going to help you. Tell me what you want and I'll bring it out.”

“I need some dog food.”

“Like soup bones?”

“I was thinking like a steak. Are soup bones very pricey?”

“Soup bones are a lot cheaper than steak. I have a really nice porterhouse, but I wouldn't feed it to a dog. Er, I mean, it's much too good to feed to a dog.”

“Can you show it to me?”

The butcher held up a large, red steak with a T-bone in it.

“That is definitely the kind of steak dogs eat in cartoons,” said Klaus. “I’ll take it.”

“I don’t know,” said the butcher. “I think dogs in cartoons usually chew on raw, bone-in arm cut chuck roasts.” He held one up for Klaus to see.

“I’ll take both. And I'm starving,” Klaus suddenly realized. “Do you have any ready to eat sausages?”

“We sure do.”

“Get me something spicy. That’s food for me, and for the dog, and I already have cream for the cat, so it won’t eat the birds.”

“The cat will still be hungry after cream,” said the butcher. “I have some kidney you could feed it.”

Klaus bought a packet of prepared kidney. “Is there a good place around here to get bread or something for birds?”

“There’s the Pigeon Lady. She sits down on Crewe Street, past the accountant’s office, under those trees. She always has a bag of birdseed.”

The butcher dropped the paper-wrapped meat parcels into Klaus’s shopping bag. Klaus thanked him and walked to the end of the street, crossed over to the next block and started down Crewe. His jalapeno cheese pork sausage link was wrapped in a piece of parchment, and he chewed as he walked.

The accountant’s office was a two-story, deep, dark brown building with arched windows, that had been a library long ago. Klaus knew all about what it had been like when it was a library, because a librarian who had worked there for years, decades ago, was friendly and talkative.

Beyond, near a row of small trees, a woman sat hunched on a bench, surrounded by pigeons. Klaus stopped at a trash can, threw away his parchment wrapper and licked his fingers. Then he approached the Pigeon Lady.

He walked slowly to the end of the bench, and the pigeons matched his pace, stepping or lazily flapping away from him. "May I?" He gestured at the seat.

"Oh, yeah, sit down," said the Pigeon Lady. She had white hair in billowy curls. Next to her on the bench was a lumpy sack of birdseed. She leaned over to get a good look at the budgie in Klaus's cage. "Now look at that little bird. He's enjoying the weather. What's his name?"

Klaus had been going to work up a really poetic name, but now he needed one for introductions, and what popped out was, “Sky.”

"He looks like a cloudy sky, doesn't he," said the Pigeon Lady. "He's so cute."

Klaus was delighted and didn't know what to say. He let himself give the woman a proud, friendly smile.

"Take a handful of seed, like this," said the Pigeon Lady, "and let it fall from your fingers, like this, while you sort of throw it."

Pigeons were already flocking and pecking close to Klaus's feet; he hadn't frightened them away for long. As he helped feed them, he explained what he needed. "Where can I get a bag of seed like this?"

"You don't want to feed this kind of wild bird seed to pet birds. You need to go to the pet store. There's a good one a couple of blocks from here." She told Klaus how to get there.

Klaus thanked the woman and stood. Some of the pigeons closest to him flapped away, and then scurried and strutted right back to check for seeds near where he had been sitting.

He crossed the first street on the way to the pet store, stopped on the other side, and shouted aloud to himself, "Service animal!" He lifted the birdcage to peer in at Sky. "You remember that. You're a tiny little parrot, you can basically talk, right? Remember, when we go to the next place, you tell them you're a service animal."

At the door to the pet store, he raised the cage. "He's a service animal."

Klaus was going to keep talking, shoring up his argument, but the salesgirl said promptly, “Oh, he's welcome. All pets are welcome here.”

Klaus closed his mouth and rolled his eyes. He stepped inside.

The girl asked, “What can I help you find?"

"I need some food for this little guy. And also for a lot more like him—a whole big cage full, all budgies. My brothers and sisters bought them for me."

"These shelves have all of our bird diets. Let me know if you need any help."

"Thanks." Klaus browsed, confused by the array. He'd had no idea there could be so many different kinds of things to feed to birds. The prices varied widely. Several packages had pictures of budgies on them, though he thought none of the model birds had Sky's level of cuteness. Klaus read labels without comprehending them. He periodically tugged the side of his lower lip between his teeth because he didn't have a cigarette. Finally he called out to the shop girl, "Which is the best?"

The girl came out from behind the counter to join him, inquiring, "What is he used to eating?"

"Um … I'm not sure … and he's one of many—I have a flock of them but no food in the house."

The girl helped him make some selections in case certain of the budgies had preferences different from the others. Then she asked, "Would your bird like a drink of water?"

"Um, yes, I think he would."

She went into the bathroom and came back out with a little paper cup of water. She held her hand over the door of the cage to place the cup inside without letting the bird out. Sky clung to cage bars and leaned down to reach the water. Klaus watched how he dipped his beak and tilted his head back to swallow.

"Thank you," Klaus said to the shop girl. "Oh, what's this?" He had spotted a board covered in so much brightly-colored plastic stuff that it looked like a Mouse Trap board game. Klaus read the sign on it: "Parakeet Playground. Forty dollars." The thing was covered in ladders and bells, a rope bridge and a tunnel.

He showed it to Sky. "Look at the tunnel. Would you go through a tunnel like that? Would the other budgies enjoy it, you think? Yeah?"

One of the toys, a rainbow spiral sisal rope with a bell on the end, reminded Klaus of a cat toy, which in turn made him envision Mistie playing in the aviary room, which reminded him of what he was doing in the pet shop in the first place. " _What time is it?_ " He looked for a clock on the wall and found he had not yet used up all of his hour. "Miss, please, I need to use your phone, can I use your phone?"

The girl turned a desk phone on the counter around so Klaus could reach the dial. He called the house and Pogo picked up.

"Thank goodness it's you," Klaus said. "You're six times stronger than a man, right?"

"Of comparative age, yes," said Pogo.

"Good. Get the dog away from Diego. Make him let you take it for a walk. Get it out of the house until I can get there. Please."

Pogo paused, then said, "Very well. I will walk your dog this one time."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

Klaus hung up the phone and said to the shop girl, "I want to get that parakeet playground, but I won't have enough money. I already bought steak for my new dog."

"Oh? What kind of dog?"

"I think a Bull Monster," said Klaus.

She smiled. "Bullmastiff?"

Klaus waved that off.

The girl said, "I'll throw in one of these sample bags of dog food. Do you need anything else?"

"I don't know … do I?"

"If you're new to budgies you might need a book."

"Throw a good one on the pile, please, dear," said Klaus. He surveyed the collection of purchases on the counter. "What do you have for kitties? Any kitty snacks I can buy with the rest of this?" He pushed his change from the butcher shop across the counter.

The salesgirl chose a small container of cat kibble and added everything up. She picked up a scratch pad and a pen. "Give me your name, and I can put a note on the playground to hold it for you. You can pay for it in installments."

Klaus gazed over his shoulder at the parakeet playground. He turned back and looked into the girl's eyes. "My name is Klaus Hargreeves, and I have never been consistent about anything in my life."

She gave him a friendly smile. "We'll hold it for you."

Klaus took long strides on the way home. A few times he hugged the birdcage to his chest so Sky wouldn't be jostled, and ran a short way. Then he dropped into long walking strides again.

He called out at the front door, "Diego? Pogo? Anybody?"

"Yeah?" Diego emerged from the direction of the kitchen, popping almonds into his mouth.

"Where's the monster?"

"You mean Torgo? He's walking with Pogo."

Klaus dropped his shopping bag and ran upstairs and into the aviary room. On the floor inside of the aviary, curled into a complacent white ball, was Mistie. Klaus set Sky's cage on the floor of the room, leaned down and peered through the screen at the cat, searching her muzzle for a tell-tale feather. He straightened up and counted parakeets. Mistie yawned, stretched and looked up at him through the screen door. He unlatched it and picked her up.

"She doesn't eat birds," said Number Five.

Klaus checked the latch on the screen door and set Mistie on the floor. "What?"

Number Five was standing in the middle of the room. "She doesn't eat birds. She was raised with birds."

For a minute, Klaus merely felt himself breathing. He held up a finger. "Number Five Hargreeves, I want you to know you are not a bad child—"

"I'm not a child."

"—But I want you to sit your ass in that chair."

"Okay."

"Not that one," Klaus said hastily, "that one has nice cushions. The other one—the less comfortable one."

"All right." Number Five sat.

"Now you think about what you've done."

"Already thought about it," said Number Five. "I know I did the right thing."

"In that case, you may use this time to meditate on the wounds of Christ," said Klaus.

"Very well," said Number Five.

"You may watch the parakeets, but don't enjoy it too much. I'll check on you in a little while—wait—where's Mistie? She can't go wandering around the house! That dog will eat her!" Klaus stepped onto the balcony, calling, "Mistie! Here kitty," and went down the stairs, still calling. He retrieved his shopping bag from the couch in the entryway and headed for the kitchen to put the meat in the refrigerator.

Mistie met him at the refrigerator and did a hopeful twirl with her tail in the air. "Oh, there you are," said Klaus. "Good." He lifted Mistie to the kitchen island. "You'd better stay up here where it's safe." He poured a little cream into a dish for her.

While Mistie lapped up cream, Klaus heated a frying pan for the kidney pieces. The kitchen door cracked open. Klaus heard it, but he thought nothing of it until he heard a claw clack and skid on the threshold. "Keep that thing outside!" Klaus snatched the paper-wrapped porterhouse from the fridge. "Here, Pogo, catch." Pogo's paw came in through the gap and caught the steak. The door closed and latched again.

Klaus sautéed the kidney pieces and set them to cool. Mistie finished her cream and Klaus let her begin on some kibble. When the kidney was cool he fed her a few bits of that, too.

Ben said, "Better check on Five."

"Oh, yes. And I need to feed the birds." Klaus let Mistie finish what she was eating and then carried her upstairs, while Mistie licked her chops and purred.

Number Five had his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands, and his ankles hooked around the legs of the chair. He had a curiously distant look in his eyes.

"You can get out of the chair, honey," said Klaus.

Number Five stayed slouched in his chair. He said, "The crucifix behind the altar at St. Monica's was intact. At first I took that as a sign of hope, a promise that things were going to be better, that not everyone was gone. But it didn't turn out that way. Anyway, I used to go alone and stare at it, and that was Mass."

"You mean ‘alone’ except for Dolores?"

Number Five shook his head. "Dolores isn't very religious. She did help me hold the Fall Festival every year, though, because it was something she liked to do for me. The Parish Hall was leveled, so we held it outside. I sold the pot holder. Dolores alternated between the duck pond and the beer tent."

"Oh, I love the duck pond," said Klaus. "So fun! Where did you find little toy ducks?"

"We floated a child's pink rubber bath duckie we found in the rubble."

"Mmm," said Klaus, tangentially. "Church Festival chicken."

"We didn't have chicken," said Number Five.

Klaus made a sympathetic noise, and was about to ask him to talk about it, but Number Five slapped his knees and stood. "And that about covers the Apocalypse. You can let Mistie down on the floor."

"I'm going to hold onto her in case Pogo brings that dog back inside."

Number Five flicked his hand impatiently. "Diego and I lied our asses off. Torgo and Mistie came from the same home. We bought them together. They're best friends."

Klaus had no ready answer. He clutched Mistie protectively.

"I'm going to go get Torgo," said Number Five.

"You don't need to do that on my account," said Klaus, but Number Five was gone.

Klaus stood in the aviary room listening to the burbling of the budgies and holding his cat.

************


	3. The Phantom Dog

Klaus and his brothers and sisters were six years old, going on seven. They were taking air in the hedge maze. The hedgerows were short, only a few feet at the highest, and where they were trimmed to curve downward the children could hop over them.

They were supposed to be strolling quietly along the paths formed by the hedges. They had done that for a little while, then Allison touched Luther, called out, "Tag!" and ran around the end of one hedge and jumped over the next. Luther lunged for her but missed. Allison wagged her fingers over her ears and stuck out her tongue. Luther frowned at her with his arms folded, then stuck his arm out sideways and tagged Diego. "You're It!"

"No I'm not!" shouted Diego, but he chased after Vanya anyway. Vanya shrieked and ran. She bumped into Five, and in the confusion Diego tagged Number Five, and then Five disappeared.

The office window's hinges squeaked as it was flung outward. Father leaned over the sill. He didn't shout, but his voice was loud and stern. "This is not the time for playing tag. You're supposed to be getting exercise, not jumping to and fro like kid goats."

"Baa," said Klaus. Ben gave himself horns with his forefingers. Klaus bleated again, and Allison giggled behind her hand.

Luther grabbed Klaus's shoulder, clapped his other hand over Klaus's mouth, and said, "Sorry, Father."

Vanya added her own prim, "Sorry, Father."

"Where is Number Five?"

"We don't know, Father," said Vanya.

"He's hiding from us," said Diego.

"When he returns, see to it he doesn't gambol too much," said Father, and pulled his office window shut again.

The children looked for Number Five, suspecting him of lying on the ground so he couldn't be seen over the low hedges—if he had returned from wherever he'd gone. Klaus leaned over a hedge to see if Five was beyond it, then straightened up quickly and glanced over his shoulders in case Five was sneaking up and might jump out at him and scare him. Klaus glanced over toward the iron fence that was the outside edge of the maze. A big, shadowy animal stood there, on neither side of the fence. It seemed as though the fence went right up through it, all the way along its body.

The animal held its head up and perked its folded ears. As Klaus watched it, it became more solid, less shadowy. It was a big dog. Klaus could even see coarse, wavy fur on its back.

The dog stepped the rest of the way through the fence and loped toward Klaus.

"There's a dog," said Klaus.

Luther stood tall and watched the edge of the maze. "Where?"

Klaus pointed.

Allison said, "There isn't a dog."

"There is," said Klaus. "It's dead." He didn't understand all of the differences between alive and dead, but he knew that the dead were different from the living because he could see them and his brothers and sisters couldn't. If nobody else saw the dog, then the dog was a dead dog.

The dog ran through two hedges and hopped the next few and came right up to Klaus. It carried its head low, but it was almost as tall as he was. It wiggled all along its body, sweeping the ground with its tail. It laid its ears back, licked its lips, and whined. Klaus put out his hand to pat it.

Somebody pushed Klaus right through the dog and into the prickly evergreens. The dog barked—Klaus felt the angry noise in his lungs on his way down through the dog's chest. He lay in the prickly branches for only a few seconds. The dog growled. Klaus clambered out of the hedge. "Diego! You can't tag me for no reason." He tried to rub evergreen sap out of his shorts.

"It's fun," said Diego.

The dog's fur stood up all along its neck and back. Its teeth showed, and it snarled at Diego. "Diego, get out of the way! It doesn't like you." Klaus held his arm out between Diego's body and the dog's mouth.

Diego looked over Klaus's arm in the direction of what to him was an invisible dog. "It does, too, like me."

"No, it doesn't!"

The dog lunged under Klaus's arm and bit Diego's leg. Diego didn't seem to feel it. He didn't even look down at the growling dog. Klaus tried to grab the animal by the neck fur and pull it back, but his hands went right through its neck. "You're going to hurt him! Let go."

"How can I hurt him?" asked Diego. "You said he was dead. I can’t see him."

Klaus tugged on one of the dog's ears and for an instant he felt short, soft fur and the way the ear tip folded under his fingers. Then his hand went through the dog's face, but he had gotten it to turn away from Diego's leg. The dog curved its neck and body around and wiggled its tail. It stuck its nose into Klaus's hand and seemed to lick his palm, though Klaus couldn't feel the wet tongue. The dog took long sniffs of Klaus's hand and sleeve and looked into his eyes. Klaus gave it a small smile, and it looked harder at him, then backed up and gave a low _woof_ sound from its almost-closed mouth.

Someone poked Klaus from behind, on the shoulder. "Touch," said Number Five. "I tagged you, you're It."

The dog raised its ears and stared at Number Five. It stiffened its legs and seemed to stand on tiptoe. Klaus wheeled and pushed Number Five. "Get out of the way, it doesn't like you."

Number Five shoved back. "You have to be It. It was a fair tag,"

Klaus set his heel and leaned into the shove so he could not be moved. "I'll be It somewhere else. I'm not cheating!"

Number Five frowned and folded his arms.

Behind Klaus, the dog growled. Klaus faced it and saw how it hunched its shoulders and tried to look past him at Number Five. It showed its teeth and stuck the tip of its tongue out, making its growl sputter.

"Bad dog!" The dog didn't listen. It jumped, and went through Klaus's body on its way to Number Five. The dog's tongue slid on the skin of Klaus's chest and pushed through his breastbone. Klaus put his hands up to stop it, but the dog kept going, he couldn't grasp it. He felt teeth inside of his body, and it didn't hurt him, but the teeth were going through him and going to get Number Five. He whirled to follow the dog as its big body leapt all the way through him. It came down and closed its teeth in Number Five's stomach. Klaus screamed.

Five didn’t react to the dog. It let go of him and looked back at Klaus.

Klaus sank to the path with his hands over his head. The dog circled him, growling. Klaus's back was to a hedge, and half of the circle that the dog made was through the hedge.

Diego entered the dog's circle and patted Klaus soothingly. "You scared, Klaus? You don't have to be It." The dog barked and cut across its circle to rush Diego.

"Get away, get away!" Klaus cried.

A bell rang. The children, except for Klaus, ran through the garden toward the kitchen door. "Come on, Klaus," said Vanya. "Mother's ringing the bell. It's time for a snack."

"I know, I heard it," Klaus said into his arms.

The dog was quiet after the other children left the garden. It towered over Klaus. He said, "Sit." The dog sat. "Sit," Klaus said again, and the dog wiggled its hips and sat harder.

Klaus heard Mother's steps crossing the cobblestones. The dog sat quietly as she approached. She gathered Klaus up and carried him out of the maze.

Klaus hoped the angry dog would stay in the garden, but it followed at Mother's heel, grumbling.

Klaus didn't want his snack.

"Don't you want that?" Allison asked him. They snacked around the kitchen island, and the rules were somewhat relaxed compared to in the dining room. Allison reached for Klaus's plate to help herself to a few of his crackers. The dog lifted its front feet off the floor, rose up between their stools, watched Allison's hand and growled. "Allison, be careful," cried Klaus.

Mother asked, "What's wrong, Klaus?"

"There's an angry dog."

"You other children may take your snacks out into the garden," said Mother. When they had gone, she put her warm hands on Klaus's shoulders. "Do you remember what we practiced, for when dead people are upset?"

Klaus nodded, but he still felt like crying, and his shoulders stayed all hunched up and tight. "Do I have to try?"

"Maybe it will help," said Mother. "I'll stand here while you try."

The dog was lifting its face toward Klaus on his stool. Klaus said in a shaky voice, "You must be feeling some pretty big emotions right now."

The dog whined and growled as if it were trying to tell him something. Klaus said, "I don't understand."

The dog grumbled and lay down. It spent the rest of the afternoon slinking around the perimeters of every room Klaus entered and keeping up a quiet stream of complaint. It bumped Klaus's feet with its nose at the dinner table, but otherwise didn't interfere with the meal.

That night, Klaus got into his pajamas and Mother tucked him in. She kissed him and turned out the light, and after she was gone he heard the dog snuffling around his bedroom floor. Klaus thought of what would happen if one of his sisters or brothers came into his room that night to see him. His whole body went tight and motionless and his stomach felt hot. Even if he locked his door, Number Five could still come in. What if the next time the dog put its teeth in Number Five the teeth were real? Could the dog make its teeth stronger because it was so angry? Klaus screamed for his mother.

The dog snapped and slobbered at the door when Mother opened it, but she stepped through the dog and came to Klaus in his bed. She held his hand and he tried to explain.

"I don't think ghosts can do that," she said. "Only you can feel them. You must feel very lonely, being the only one who can see such a big, scary dog. Maybe if you give it some time to get used to all of us, you can talk to it and it will be more sensible, and be a good dog."

"No, it's not good, it hates everybody!" Klaus wept until he got a snotty nose. Mother helped him wipe his face and then she took him by the hand and led him to Father's office.

Mother did the explaining for Klaus. She had a hard time getting Father to understand.

"There's been a dog on the grounds?"

"No, it's a dead dog. A spirit. Klaus is frightened, and I think the dog is, too. It doesn't seem to know how to tell him what it wants."

"And it's being vicious?"

"It seems so, sir."

"If it's a dog that's the problem, then the child should master it. Humans master dogs."

"Sir, he's not a very masterful boy," said Mother. "He's gentle, and I think this ghost dog is too much for him."

"One dog is too much for him? What sort of medium will the boy make, if one restless spirit is too much for him? He needs to handle it by himself."

Mother took Klaus back to bed. She sat up in Klaus's room that night.

The next day, the dog was still there. Klaus tried again to talk to it. "Good boy," he said softly. "Are you frightened?"

The dog only whined, and then howled, a loud noise, and Klaus covered his ears and begged, "Please don't do that. Please."

Klaus sat at lunch that day with his hands over his ears. Nobody else was bothered by the howling. Father didn't lunch with them, so Klaus didn't get yelled at, but he didn't get to eat much either. Mother set some things aside for him. When the dog stopped howling and went to low moaning, Klaus returned to the kitchen, found his plate and ate fast, in case the dog might start up again, but it didn't. Instead it whined, and as it followed Klaus around, it stuck its nose in corners and behind curtains and under furniture. It seemed to be searching the house for something. It reared up and put its front feet on windowsills and gazed out through the glass, its folded ears going back and forth.

"Can I help you find something?" Klaus asked. "What do you need to find? I can find it."

"What are you looking for?" asked Diego. "I can help you find it."

The dog bared its teeth at Diego and growled, and the fur along its back all stood up. Klaus stood between it and Diego, but he knew he couldn't stop it if it wanted to bite Diego again. This time it might really make him bleed. Klaus shook so hard that he had to grab his own elbows to stop his hands from moving against his will. "The dog doesn't want you to."

"You should feed steak to dogs," said Diego. "Then they won't be mean."

"How do I feed it steak?"

"Just throw it a steak."

Klaus found a steak in the meat drawer in the refrigerator. He held it out to the dog, but the dog ignored it.

"If you take the steak outside," said Diego, "the dog will go with you."

"It goes with me all the time."

"But then it won't follow you while it eats the steak."

Klaus went out and sat huddled in the kitchen garden, holding one elbow with the opposite hand, and with his free hand offering the steak to the dog. The dog wouldn't look at the steak.

"Go get it!" shouted Klaus, and he threw the steak across the cobblestones.

At that moment Mother came out, carrying her kitchen scissors, to cut some herbs. "Klaus! Throwing good food on the ground."

"I thought the dog would catch it."

Mother _tsked_ and picked up the steak. Klaus followed her back inside. Mother rinsed off the steak and patted it dry and put it back in the refrigerator.

Klaus stood disconsolately in the kitchen.

Vanya was sitting on a stool, eating a popsicle. She said, "Maybe if you ate the steak, the dog could have your share. Like, pretend."

"It's not a pretend dog! It's not pretend!"

"Pretend to feed it," insisted Vanya.

The dog came back inside through the closed door. Mother went and snipped the herbs she needed, and when she returned, Klaus asked, "Can I have the steak?"

Mother answered, "I think we can manage that. I hadn't decided on what to have for dinner tonight for certain. We could have something like steak and eggs. I'll make some hash browns."

"I don't want it for dinner," said Klaus. "I want it to give to the dog."

"He can't eat, honey. He's not alive anymore."

"I want to make it go away, make it be not angry."

Mother stood for a moment with a blank face that meant she was thinking. Then she said, "All right, for lunch tomorrow." She added softly, "I hope it works."

So Mother cooked steak at lunch the next day.

The children ate seated around the kitchen island. "Steak isn't for lunch," said Number Five. "We need to have tuna fish sandwiches."

"I made you a tuna fish sandwich, Number Five," said Mother.

Number Five watched as Mother plated steaks. His nose quivered and he licked his lips. "I wish I could have steak."

"I cooked one for you, too," said Mother.

The dog sat by Klaus's stool. Klaus tilted his plate to show the steak to the dog. "You can eat this, okay? Be nice. Be good."

"I want mine cut into strips," said Allison.

"I want mine cut into strips too," said Vanya.

Number Five said, "I can cut my own."

"So can I," said Diego. "I can cut yours for you, Klaus."

Klaus looked at his steak. It was bigger than those Mother had cooked for the other children, because it was for both him and the dog. "Yes, please," he said to Diego, and Diego leaned over to cut his meat for him.

Klaus snarled and snapped at Diego. The sound he made was so low and fierce that Allison uttered a little cry and Luther got up from his chair. Only it wasn't Klaus doing it, it was the dog. He had promised the dog it could have the steak.

Mother put her hand on Klaus's shoulder, and the dog growled at her, too. The growl came out of Klaus's body. Mother slowly withdrew her hand.

Tears ran down Klaus's cheeks. "No, Mother, don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving you, Klaus. Let the dog eat. I'll be right here."

The dog growled and ate at the same time. It grabbed the meat with Klaus's front teeth, gulped it to the back of his mouth, gnawed once, turned the steak without dropping it, and gnawed again. Klaus only swallowed three times. He stared at his empty plate. His eyes watered and he trembled.

"It's a werewolf," said Luther.

Ben asked, "Klaus is a werewolf?"

"It's a big dog," argued Vanya.

Diego tried to see if he could also eat his steak that quickly. He had to spit it back out on his plate and cut it smaller.

The dog didn't go away, and it didn't become nice. It did things like lie at Klaus's feet and not let him walk freely when he wanted to get up. It couldn't really stop him, but it was so angry that Klaus was upset and tense all the time. He stopped playing in the garden, because the dog didn't like the other children running around. And now Klaus knew how its teeth worked, and how deep and wide its throat was. Its body wasn't real as it walked around or lay on the floor twitching its eyebrows, but it had been real when it ate the steak. Klaus couldn't make sense of how the dog could be real and not real at the same time.

One day, while the children were in the schoolroom with Pogo, and Klaus was almost falling asleep because he barely slept at night anymore, Mother called him out alone. She made Klaus sit on the edge of his bed while she combed his hair. Then she took him firmly by the hand and they took a long walk through the city.

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to see someone who might be able to help you."

"Does Father want me to go?"

"He might not want you to go if he knew, so we're not going to tell Father."

Mother and Klaus arrived in a neighborhood of looming, crumbling apartment buildings and brown sidewalks.

Klaus recognized the red flowers in little pots here and there on the stoops. He pointed them out to his mother. "Those are geraniums."

"That's right."

"Did Pogo plant them?"

"No, Pogo only planted the ones we have at home."

"Who planted these ones?"

"The people who live in these apartment buildings, I suppose."

"Alive people?"

"Yes, alive people."

Where the sun touched the stoops the brightness of the geraniums seemed as if it should make Klaus blink. It made his eyes hurt, but he stared and stared. In spite of their brilliance, the petals had a softness about them. "They're pretty."

"Yes, they are," said Mother. "I agree."

At one of the brown brick buildings Mother led Klaus up the front steps and into a musty, tiled lobby. The tiles were small and square, and even though they had some grime in the white lines between, their blue, white, and yellow flower patterns were cheerful and glossy. Mother and Klaus walked up three flights and Mother knocked on a door.

"Yes, yes, I come," said a pleasant voice from inside the apartment. The door opened. The ghost dog appeared from behind Klaus and shoved past him, through the doorway.

The lady who was holding the door open looked down, moved her skirts and stepped back as if she were getting out of the way as the dog pushed past. "This is Grace and Klaus," said the lady. "Just on time. You will have tea?"

"I like tea," said Klaus, but he looked up at Mother in case they weren't staying.

"We'd love tea," said Mother, answering their hostess but looking reassuringly at Klaus. "Klaus, this is Madame Zofiya."

Madame Zofiya was plump and soft-looking. She wore long skirts, a white apron with black embroidery on the edges, a headscarf, and a green shawl around her shoulders. She gestured them into the apartment.

Her kitchen smelled of garlic and that smell that happened when butter melted and turned brown for frying eggs. The dog snuffled loudly at the edge of the cabinets and under the table, and growled when Madame Zofiya handed Klaus his cup of tea.

"You will like _medovik_ ," said Madame, by way of offering some.

Klaus nodded, though his stomach was in knots. Medovik turned out to be a soft kind of cake. He nibbled it, and it was sweet and creamy, but he couldn't finish the piece. When the teacups were empty, Madame Zofiya said, "Now, we fix the problem. How does Klaus feel about this difficulty?"

She raised her eyebrows at Klaus as if she expected a reply. Klaus didn't know what she meant. He could only look at her, wondering.

"How do you feel about this dog?"

Klaus shuddered. "It's angry. It doesn't like my sisters and brothers. I talked to it. I tried. It won't listen to me."

"Here. Let me take your hand." Madame took Klaus's fingers in hers, and a second later jerked her hand away as if she had been burned. Klaus's hand shook and he didn't know whether to hold it out to her or place it on the table, wondering what had hurt her, or if he had somehow made her angry. In a moment Madame placed her palms on the table, nodded slowly and graciously to Klaus and said, "I apologize. Again give me your hand."

Klaus still held his hand over the table, and his fingers moved without him wanting them to, but he couldn't reach out to Madame. She took his hand and he clasped her fingers. He gave his mother a questioning glance, and she smiled for him.

Madame Zofiya said nothing. The clock on the wall ticked. Someone shadowy moved by the kitchen sink.

Klaus fidgeted. "Mother," he whispered. "There's someone waiting. Somebody else wants to talk to Madame Zofiya. I'm in the way."

"It's all right," said Madame Zofiya without opening her eyes. "They will wait."

She was quiet for another minute or two. Then she spoke. "This dog is lost in death. He is seeking his master, and he makes a mistake, he believes little Klaus is his master. He sees that Klaus is not his master, but Klaus is like his master. The dog doesn't know where to look, and follows little Klaus. I will ask the spirits to find the master of this dog. We'll tell them, we found a lost dog and this boy is caring for it, but he is frightened. And the master will come."

Again Madame was quiet. A tall man in a ragged suit stood beside her place at the table, and his lips moved, but Klaus couldn't hear him. The spirit was speaking only to Madame. He faded in and out of clarity, and his form became shredded and lacy and he disappeared.

Madame Zofiya nodded and looked at Klaus. "I have spoken with a ghost I trust," said Madame. "He will bring the dog's master. You are freed."

Klaus asked, "Someone will take the dog away?"

"Very soon."

"Will the man hurt it?"

"No one will harm the dog. My friend ghost will find where the dog belongs."

Most of Klaus's medovik remained on his plate. Madame Zofiya said, "I will wrap it for you in this doily." From her kitchen counter she took a paper doily with pretty patterns punched into the edges. She folded and pinched it until she had formed it into a basket. She lined it with another paper lace doily, placed the cake inside, snipped some shiny ribbon from a roll she took from a cupboard, and tied the ribbon through holes in the pattern of the lacy edges. She handed the basket to Klaus.

Mother opened her purse, but Madame said, "For little boy, no charge. If dog comes back, you come back."

"Thank you," said Mother. "Thank you for your help. Say thank you, Klaus."

"Thank you, Madame," whispered Klaus.

Klaus carried his cake basket by the ribbon handle on one forefinger, and held his other palm underneath, in case the paper should tear, but it didn't.

The ghost dog padded steadily beside him. The sun was lower, but still sending yellow shafts between the apartment buildings, and the geraniums were brighter and redder than before.

At home, the dog followed Klaus and Mother in through the front door. A swift, sharp whistle echoed inside the entry hall. Mother didn't seem to notice. Klaus couldn't see who had made the sound.

He put his medovik away in a drawer in his room to save for after supper, and looked around and listened for the dog, but he didn't see nor hear it.

As Klaus ate supper he kept expecting the dog to come at him under the table and push its nose against his shins, but it didn't.

That night, when they were ready for bed, Klaus asked Number Five to come into his room and sit up and watch. That way, if the dog was mad about Klaus going to see Madame Zofiya, and it came back angrier than ever, and wanted to bite Klaus, Number Five could protect him.

Klaus shared his partially smushed leftover medovik equally with Number Five.

They dragged a blanket off of Klaus's bed and sat together in Klaus's small armchair. "Don't go to sleep," said Klaus.

"I won't."

"I won't, either," said Klaus. "Promise?"

"I promise."

Klaus blinked awake to lamplight in his eyes. He had fallen asleep. How long had he slept?

"I need the lamp," said Number Five. "I'm almost asleep."

"Don't go to sleep! Is the dog here?"

"Can you see it? I can't see it."

"I can't see it or hear it. Stay up."

"I won't go to sleep."

"My feet are cold," said Klaus.

"Mine, too," Number Five said.

They climbed into bed and tucked the blanket around each other. Klaus turned away from the light and held the hem of the blanket up to his cheek. He lay awake a long time, and the only sounds were of Number Five breathing and the old house creaking.

When Klaus woke again, the lamp was still burning and dawn light was coming around the edges of the bedroom curtains. Number Five was awake.

"I guess that dog didn't come back," said Number Five.

"I guess it didn't," agreed Klaus.

The dog wasn't there at breakfast. Number Five fell asleep over his oatmeal.

When it was time to take air in the hedge maze, Klaus walked quietly and wouldn't play tag, and kept his eyes on the iron fence where he had first seen the ghost dog.

It didn't appear. He never saw it again.

************


	4. Talk to Me

Number Five came up the gallery, chirping and snapping his fingers for Torgo. Klaus heard the dog's heavy steps. Number Five and the dog entered the aviary room.

Klaus held tight to Mistie. She wiggled and squirmed in his arms. "She's afraid, see?" said Klaus. "She wants to get away."

"She wants to get to him," said Number Five. "Let her go."

Klaus held onto the cat and took a good look at the dog. It was gigantic, broad, and tawny, with a short, square face and a black mouth.

"Here. Let me have her." Number Five reached for Mistie and lifted her from Klaus's arms; Klaus held his hands under her as Number Five took her away. Mistie wiggled over Number Five's forearm and jumped to the floor.

Torgo thrust his nose at the cat and smeared his face all over her ears and head. Her fur got clumpy and damp. Mistie reared up and rubbed her cheek on the dog's jowl. The dog held its tail high in the air and stamped both of its front feet, and Klaus flinched.

"Now you touch him," said Number Five.

"Don't be so mean, Number Five," said Klaus.

"Wouldn't you like to pet him?" said Number Five. "He's your own dog."

"But he's—doesn't he eat human hands? Diego made it sound as if even Pogo shouldn't pet him."

"That was strictly to mess with your head," said Number Five.

Klaus flung his hands in the air and waved his arms. "How could you? You don't think my emotions are messy enough? You couldn't warn me about the dog? You knew how I felt about dogs!"

"That was part of the plan," said Number Five. "Luther wanted to tell you, but we voted and decided that if you had no warning you'd be more likely to believe the dog was vicious, and we needed you to think that, so you'd go along with the animal-feeding emergency. So you'd think there was a real threat."

"And now you're trying to get me to believe there's not a real threat. Have you actually looked at that dog?"

Number Five did not take a look at the dog, in spite of Klaus's insistent gesturing. Instead he asked, "Do you remember when we were little, when you asked me to sit up all night in your room and help with that ghost dog?"

"I do. We had medovik."

"Let me ask you this. What did you think I was going to do if that dog came back?"

"I don't know. I think I always kind of believed you could do anything."

"Keep that belief uppermost in your mind." Number Five stepped to the aviary and unlatched the screen door.

"What are you doing? Five?"

"I want to show you something," said Number Five. "Allison said we shouldn't let the birds play with the dog, it might be too risky. But you have to see this." Most of the birds fled from Number Five, but Sky was one of the bolder budgies who stayed within reach. Number Five offered his finger, and Sky stepped up.

"You're not going to feed my bird to that dog!"

Number Five held the finger with Sky on it straight and steady, let himself out of the aviary, and held up his other hand to warn Klaus away. "If you come at me and spook the bird, it'll fly across the room, and that'd be more dangerous. Besides, I've done this before. That is, until Allison told us to quit."

Klaus grumbled, but subsided.

Number Five said, "Torgo, hold still." Torgo looked up at him and champed his slobbery jaws. His tail thumped, but otherwise he sat still. Number Five leaned over and put Sky on Torgo's head.

Klaus nibbled his fingernails. Sky settled on Torgo's wrinkles and preened his wing.

Five picked Sky up again, released him into the aviary, and closed the screen door. Sky flew to a perch and wiggled his tail.

Number Five said, "Klaus Hargreeves, today you took fifty dollars in cash out into the city streets and spent not one dime of it on illegal medication. Touch the dog."

Klaus had his thumbnail in his teeth, and gave Number Five a pained look, but shuffled forward and laid his hand on the dog's head. He was mildly surprised to find that he had to lean down a little to lay his hand flat on Torgo's head. He had thought that the dog was taller than that.

"How is it?" asked Number Five.

Klaus thought about that. "Kinda soft, kinda wrinkly. Really soft, at first—smooth, then one of the wrinkles rides up and the tips of the fur turn out to be sort of prickly."

"Good boy," said Number Five.

Torgo's tail tip twitched, and his ears moved, making even more wrinkles on top of his head. His mouth opened slightly, his breathing got louder, and Klaus thought he saw tongue.

"What is he doing? Is he getting angry with me?"

"He's pleased," said Number Five. "He thinks I praised him."

"Can I be done now?"

"Yes, you can be done," said Number Five.

Klaus lifted his hand and cradled it in his other hand.

Number Five patted Klaus's arm. "Good job, Klaus. I'm proud of you."

************

Klaus went to the kitchen to get some cream out of the fridge and let it sit until it was warm enough for Mistie to drink.

Number Five was sitting on a stool at the island, holding an open newspaper. On the island lay Dolores, propping herself on her elbow.

"Well, I thought it was funny," Number Five was saying to Dolores. After a pause, he replied, "I can't read you your favorite column because it doesn't run in this paper."

Klaus perched with one buttcheek on a stool and held most of his weight with one elbow on the island. He touched Number Five's upper arm. "I want to spend more time with you, Five, and Dolores, sweetheart. I want to hear about you. Let's tell each other things." 

Klaus managed to get his heels under himself on the stool and sit monkey-style. Neither Number Five nor Dolores responded, so he said, "I'll begin. I'll tell you a secret. I don't have to relapse as soon as I get out of treatment."

"I know," said Number Five. "We're stopping you."

"No—I mean yes, you are—what I mean is, I don't leave the treatment center craving, you know."

"No?" said Five, in a barely-interested tone.

"No. But I know things are going to get so miserable I might as well head them off at the pass. Or … go to meet the problems, I guess. Besides, half of my friends are dealers. I miss them all when I'm gone for two months—more or less."

"So you should spend time with your other friends," said Number Five.

"My other living friends are the ones I only get to see in treatment," said Klaus. "I have some friends who are dead, but it can be hard for me to tell whether they really like me or whether they only seem to like me because I'm the one who can hear them."

"Dolores and I know what that feels like."

"There, see, that's good. That's great sharing. Tell me your little Number Five problems. I'm trying to get to know you. And when I say little, I mean that you're little, not that your problems are little."

"Don't have any problems," said Number Five, and gave his newspaper a rustle.

"Don't have any problems? None? I know your thing is that you're smarter than the rest of us, but how dumb do you think I am?"

Without looking up, Number Five answered, "You're wearing one of Luther's turtlenecks inside-out, backwards, and somehow, upside-down."

Klaus fiddled with the brooch that pinned the turtleneck into a gather and kept it from sliding off of his shoulders. He had tied the sleeves together at the front of his waist. "We're discussing my intelligence, not my fashion sense. Dolores, make him talk to me."

Number Five glanced at Dolores; his mouth tightened, he set aside his paper and jumped off his stool. "I'm going to make myself a peanut-butter sandwich. Should I make you one, too, Klaus?"

"Very nice of you to offer. I accept. But—"

"What else do you want on it?"

"Jam. But—"

"Let's just eat our sandwiches in peace, shall we?"

Klaus sighed. "Dolores, looks like there's nothing for us to do but keep our mouths shut."

************

"Allison said you have to walk him every day," said Ben.

"We have a big yard," said Klaus. He opened the door, called Torgo, and threw some meat out into the yard. Torgo went after it. Every move he made caused his hide to ripple and roll, calling Klaus's attention to the muscle under the skin. Torgo trotted directly to the meat and swallowed it. Klaus watched from the safety of the doorway.

"You have to put the leash on and walk him," insisted Ben.

"All right, all right. I can't watch his teeth and get the thing snapped on at the same time. Warn me if you see fangs."

Torgo heard the spring clip swivel the instant Klaus lifted the leash, and he charged back through the door and up to Klaus, who stood jittering, twisting the leash in his hands. "He's staring at me and drooling."

Ben said, "He's staring at the leash. Calm down and put it on him."

Klaus and Torgo made it out the door and around the block. When they came back Klaus hadn't seen Ben for a while. Klaus carefully unsnapped Torgo and headed to the bathroom. Torgo followed, panting right at the backs of Klaus's knees. "I can't walk everywhere backwards to keep an eye on your mouth," said Klaus. "Where's that dinosaur bone you had?"

Torgo got an alert gleam in his dark, glittering eyes and trotted heavily to the couch in the entryway. He made a digging motion at the fringe on the couch and his claws scratched the area rug.

"Oh," said Klaus. "It's—it's under there? Well, I can't—I can't lean down, not with all those teeth you have…" The simple solution was a broom from the kitchen, but Klaus found he could not force himself to walk at a normal pace to go and get one. He shivered and minced as if he were cold. He made it, though, dragged the broom back, and leaned over the minimum amount required to shove the handle under the couch and knock the super-strong, heavy-duty plastic dinosaur bone toy out. Torgo lunged and grabbed the toy and backed off with it. Klaus covered his eyes, took a sobbing breath, and made his way at last to the bathroom.

When he came out, he rounded the foot of the staircase as he headed for the corridor where his bedroom was. Torgo was lying near the front door with his toy between his front paws. He slobbered and chewed, and the toy clunked on the floor tiles.

Klaus decided to try an experiment. He cleared his throat and coughed a couple of times. "Ahem. Torgo—" It came out as a whisper. The dog raised his head. His eyes glittered in the direction of Klaus's face. "Torgo." Klaus's voice wobbled, but was audible this time. The dog stood up.

"Come here," said Klaus, and Torgo walked across the entry hall floor, stood at Klaus's knees for some moments looking up at him, then sat.

Klaus counted breaths until his heart was back in place. "You do know you don't have to do anything I tell you to, right? You're stronger than me in every way."

Torgo peered up at him and licked his chops.

"You're a good boy for coming when I asked you to."

Torgo's tail moved.

"Good boy," Klaus ventured again, and the tail swished more forcefully. "Calm down," said Klaus. "You're making me nervous."

The tail didn't calm down, and the dog's jaws parted, showing the shine of spit on the bumpy black skin of its lips, a lining of pink inside, and the wet white of teeth in its lower jaw.

Klaus backed up onto the first step of the staircase, but he had already made up his mind to go to his bedroom. He lowered a foot cautiously as if the entry hall floor were a dark pool with an unclear bottom. Torgo remained sitting. Klaus got both feet back on the hall floor, shuffled sideways with his eyes on the dog, and eventually got to the corridor and into his bedroom.

He latched and locked the door, and dug in his dresser drawer to find the support T-shirt Luther had given him. Klaus squirmed and flailed until he had his arms and head in the right holes in the huge shirt, then stretched it out to be able to read his siblings' signatures upside-down, from above.

The dog's footsteps sounded in the corridor: shuffling, clicking of claws, and the small thump of each tread.

Klaus climbed into bed. He lay on his belly and tucked his arms under his pillow. The dog snuffled at the crack at the bottom of the door. It sniffed and snorted for a long time.

Klaus shivered. "I hate myself."

He heard the solicitous voice of an elderly woman. "Did not this dog stay away?"

Klaus felt a hand on his back and relaxed in spite of himself. He listened for more sounds from the corridor. "I think he's gone."

"Didn't it work?"

"Do I know you?" Klaus rubbed tears from his eyes and craned to look toward where the touch on his back had come from. Something or someone colorful, not quite the same as the usual apparitions, shimmered near the bed. In some flickers Klaus thought he saw a many-colored shawl and a yellow headscarf.

"Maybe you do not remember," said the voice inside the flickering, colorful shape. "You were so little boy."

"Madame Zofiya! Of course I remember you," said Klaus. "It's really good to see you, Madame."

"I remember little Klaus. Didn't it work? Is this dog come again?"

"Oh—oh, I get it," said Klaus. "It's a different dog. Looks a lot the same though, and I—I can't—I can't—" Klaus gave a little scream and thumped his pillow against the mattress. He let out a frustrated growl. "Thank you for checking on me, but now that you're here, you can see that I'm no stronger than I was when I was six years old."

"You were strong boy then. You are good boy, Klaus."

She faded and Klaus couldn't feel her presence anymore. He realized he was thirsty. He was going to have to leave the room sometime. Klaus rolled over onto his back. "Pathetic," he said.

Ben sat on the edge of the mattress. "I'm lonely."

"I am, too, Ben."

"You should visit me over here," said Ben. "Step across and see me."

"Ben, we've talked about this. You know I can't do that."

"Won't do it," said Ben.

"You can't prove it," said Klaus.

"If you're so sure you can't do it, why don't you try?"

Klaus shuddered.

Ben went on, "You feed me waffles, and pistachio baklava when we're lucky enough to get it, and sometimes I can taste them. If you'd try it, you could come over and see me, and walk right back to the living side after, which I can't do. I've tried it, and I can't do it, but I believe you can."

"Ben. Ben." Klaus propped himself up on his elbow to face him. "Imagine you're standing on a little strip of land that you love with all your heart, and all around you is a black pond, spreading far, far out into this … forest or swamp with black trees, and it's so much bigger than you. And you're clinging all the time to your beloved land, and it's such a tiny place."

"I don't need to imagine it," said Ben. "I was there, on the strip of land, clawing at it, and now I'm in the dark pond. Since you love that land so much, you'd think you would treat yourself a little better there, enjoy it more, and knock off the pharmaceuticals that are going to drop you in the drink sooner or later."

"Don't you try to logic me, youngster," said Klaus. "I'm not a logical person. I'm a passionate being."

"You've crossed over before, or almost. Those times you've overdosed. You frightened me."

"I didn't do it on purpose. I don't remember those times, at least, not the part where I was gone," said Klaus.

Ben said, "It was terrifying. You nearly kill yourself against your will, but you won't step over and visit me. You're a selfish jackass."

"Ben! What way is that to speak to someone who's outlived you?"

"Jerk," said Ben, and disappeared.

"Wait, Ben, don't go. I do want to spend time with you…"

Klaus remembered his physical thirst. He sat up and got his legs over the side of the bed. His fingers shook when he touched the knob to open the door. He stepped out deliberately without listening for the dog, then stood waiting for it to appear. It seemed as if the hallway walls were made of ice. The air emanating from them was cold. The dog did not appear, and Klaus couldn't hear it. He huddled, holding his robe closed over his breast, and walked to the kitchen.

As he approached the archway he heard Allison, Luther, and Diego talking. They were leaning on the island. Luther nodded, and Diego gave Klaus a smile. Allison asked, "Hey, how you holding up?"

Klaus didn't answer aloud, although he acknowledged her with a glance and a tiny nod. He went to the sink and sucked down a glass of water while looking blankly at Allison. He couldn't stop his quivering. He was afraid he was holding the glass too hard, and clunked it down onto the counter so he wouldn't break it. He thought of something to make him stronger.

He clutched Allison's sleeve. "Allison, Rumor me."

She gave him an expression blending skeptical and bemused. "Rumor you to do what?"

"I can't make it without the drugs. It's like the anxiety is a live thing and it's crawling on me."

"No, sweetie."

"Why not? Please. Please, Rumor me."

"Because it will change your behavior, but not your habit."

"That's what Number Five would say. Number Five told you to say that!"

Allison winced, but her tone was calm. "Just because he told me what to say doesn't mean he's wrong."

Klaus got down on his knees and grabbed handfuls of Allison's slacks. "Please. Please."

She gave him an apologetic look but shook her head. "No."

Klaus slumped onto his ass and let his legs slide out so he was sitting with his knees and ankles touching the cold tiles.

"I can't imagine how hard it is for you," said Allison. "Hearing all those people, their suffering…"

"Oh—" Klaus shook his head and clicked his tongue impatiently. "It's not—I'm used to it."

Allison leaned partway down to his level. "What are the drugs for then?"

"I'm an addict, Allison. They don't need to be _for_ anything." He clutched her shin again with one hand.

"He's not used to it," said Diego. "He's putting on a brave face."

"No, that's awfully nice of you to say, Diego, but I'm fine with the voices, really. They are a little terrifying now and then. They can't help it. But I'm not bothered enough by it to get high. What I need is help with my anxiety."

"What are you anxious about, buddy?" Diego asked.

"Oh, you know…" Klaus gestured languidly.

"Hey." Diego crouched by Klaus, put a hand on his shoulder, and looked into his eyes. "You want to tell us what's bothering you, if it isn't the dead people?"

"You'll just want me to try it," said Klaus.

"Try … try what?"

"Nothing special … Hey." Klaus tapped Diego in the chest with his forefinger. "Is it true you can hit anything with your knives—I mean with anything you throw?"

Diego furrowed his brow and quirked the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. Why do you ask? You know that's true."

"You have a lot of faith in it, though, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean sometime when you were learning your power you had to take it for granted that you can control it. That it works every time."

"You want to tell me what this has to do with your anxiety and why you're so scared?"

If Luther and Allison hadn't been there, Klaus might have told Diego the truth. Instead he said, "I'm not really that scared."

Luther said, "What about the anxiety that's like a live animal climbing on you?"

"It's probably just that I'm tired and hungry."

"You're hungry." Diego stood. "So, who wants to visit a taco truck with me and Klaus? Let's go to Linda's for some chorizo."

"I don't want to go to Linda's," said Luther.

"Lucio's, then," said Diego. "That place has at least decent chorizo. Or we could get beef. Or we could see if he has pulled pork with green chilis today."

Luther thought for a moment. "Not Lucio's. What about that old Army van that parks around behind the greengrocer?"

"Martin's? Why do you want to go there?"

"Because." Luther shrugged. "It's as good a place as any other."

"It is not," said Diego. "Martin's a super nice guy, but the food…" He shook his head sadly. "Let's go to Daisy and Marco's."

"Which one is Daisy and Marco's?" asked Luther.

"The name isn't on the truck. It's the one painted pink, with daisies."

Luther said, "The one Number Five said was painted like a shower curtain."

"Right," said Diego. "Best veggie tacos."

Luther gave a solemn shake of his head and frowned.

"Man, what is wrong with my taco trucks?"

Luther was silent for a moment, then let out a huff through his nostrils. "Your favorites have awnings."

"So? What's the big deal about awnings … oh. Look, I can bring you a half-dozen tacos and you stand a safe distance away. Then can we get some chorizo?"

Luther directed his long-suffering gaze somewhere over Diego's head and gave a stoic nod.

Diego held out his hand to Klaus, "Here, I'll help you up."

"I appreciate your thinking of me, Diego," said Klaus, "but I don't need any tacos."


	5. The Bead Curtain

Diego crouched beside Klaus again. "You think you've distracted everybody, but I'm not that easily distracted. If you need help with some demon, or beast, whatever it is, let me—"

"Don't worry about me. Go enjoy your tacos, buddy." Klaus patted Diego's leather-clad arm and adjusted one of his many buckles for him. "I'll go for a walk by myself."

Diego's eyes searched Klaus's face a little longer. He straightened up. "Take the dog with you." He lifted Torgo's leash from its hook by the door and tossed it into Klaus's lap.

At the small _chink_ sound the clip made when it landed in Klaus's lap, Torgo barged into the kitchen out of nowhere. Klaus leapt to his feet too quickly and grabbed the edge of the kitchen island to keep his balance.

"Allison, you coming?" asked Diego.

"Yeah, I just gotta grab my jacket."

"Wait a minute," said Diego. "Klaus, you need to eat something." He took out his billfold. "Here's twenty dollars." He held the bill out to Klaus. "Buy yourself supper while you're out."

Klaus took the money between thumb and forefinger, but he whined, "Are you nuts? I have nothing but respect for you, you know that, but I can't do this. You know I can't."

"If you argue I'll give you more," said Diego.

"Take the money," Allison told Klaus. "I don't like it either. But you're practicing being at home and not engaging in your habitual addictive behaviors. You need to handle money."

"Wow," said Klaus. "It's as if Number Five is in the room."

"You've got to practice not exchanging every dollar you get for drugs," said Diego.

"I already did that once," said Klaus. "Remember? Fifty dollars. I had nine cents left."

"Do it again," said Diego. "Wait." He opened a cupboard. "Take some Smarties." He handed Klaus a cellophane roll of small pastel candies.

Klaus crinkled the wrapper between his fingers. He folded the twenty-dollar bill around the Smarties and pushed them deep in his robe pocket. Torgo had been standing around, slobbering. He had shown interest in the crinkly roll of Smarties, and when Klaus put it in his pocket, Torgo started sniffing around the floor. Klaus thought he might be able to attach the leash to the collar without Torgo raising his head. Klaus pushed the snap button down with his thumb to open the clip, and the metal gave a tiny squeak. Torgo looked up, sat and stared at Klaus. Klaus stared back, holding the clip open.

"Don't flinch away," advised Allison on her way out the door.

"See you later, Klaus," said Diego.

Klaus said, "Love you guys," but he kept his eyes on the dog.

Torgo didn't even look away from Klaus when the door latched.

Klaus asked, "You want to go for a walk?"

Torgo's bulky body shivered all over, and his front claws patted the tiles. Klaus made several false starts, and each time Torgo’s agitation increased, but eventually Klaus managed to get the leash on. They were leaving when Ben said, "It's evening. Put on something more than that bathrobe."

"Oh, here he is back again when he can tell me what to do," said Klaus. "Okay, Mom, I'll dress in layers."

Ben said, "And wear socks. You'll catch cold and die."

Klaus dropped Torgo's leash. The dog followed him anyway. Klaus went to Luther's room, dug in a drawer, and put on a zip-up cable-knit turtleneck sweater, and over that, an enormous tank top. In his own room Klaus found corduroy pants and his boots. He leaned down warily and picked up the end of Torgo's leash. The dog's ears came forward and wrinkled up the skin on the top of his head. "Don't bring your teeth anywhere near me," Klaus told him. "Stay at the end of the leash, please."

Klaus, Ben, and Torgo walked to the pet store. Klaus told Ben, "I want to put a payment on that budgie playground. I want to get this money out of my hands before I go home with something that's going to get me in trouble."

When they got there, the pet store was locked and dark. They backtracked to the butcher shop. The shop man said, "Don't tell me you want to bring that animal in here."

"I just need a snack for him," said Klaus. "What have you got that he can eat, for five dollars?"

The butcher sold Klaus a turkey thigh. Klaus tossed the raw meat down onto the stoop and Torgo gobbled it up, then licked the stoop.

"We should take Torgo home for a nap," said Ben.

Klaus looked down at the dog. "Why?"

"He's tired," answered Ben.

"How can you tell?"

"He looks worn out," said Ben. "He's fatigued around the eyes."

Klaus twisted the end of the leash in his fists. "But I don't want to go home yet. Those people might be there."

"Those people—our family?"

"Our family might be back home, having finished their tacos, and they might remember our conversation, and want me to tell them about my feelings."

"You don't need to talk right now. Leave Torgo in the kitchen yard."

They walked home, Klaus dragging his feet.

The eight-foot-high gate to the back garden stood open. Torgo pulled Klaus through the turns in the shaggy, unkempt hedge maze to the kitchen yard. By the kitchen door was an herb garden in tiers of pots on racks surrounded by a six-foot iron fence.

Klaus had to unlock this gate, and Torgo pushed his face in the way of Klaus's knees. Klaus stood farther and farther back, leaning over to the lock, and Torgo kept taking up more space. His lip dragged against Klaus's corduroys, leaving a smear of saliva, and then he shoved his shoulder into the space and stuck shed hairs to the smear. Klaus trembled so much that he feared dropping the key between Torgo's front paws—maybe even in the dog's mouth. Klaus straightened up and collected himself. Torgo looked from the gate to Klaus, sat and let his tongue loll out of his mouth. He let Klaus pass him and undo the lock.

Near an outdoor tap by the door was a half-tumbled pile of clay flower pots and trays. Klaus found an uncracked tray and ran some water into it, and while Torgo was noisily lapping Klaus unsnapped the leash.

"Pardon me. I'm just going to back out this gate. You stay there." Klaus eased backward out of the yard and clanked the gate shut. Torgo lay down on the cobblestones. "Good boy." Klaus locked the gate.

He rubbed the roll of Smarties in his pocket. "There's that little shop a few blocks from here that sells postcards and candy. I might spend most of my fifteen dollars on postcards for my friends in inpatient, and use up the rest on candy sticks before something else comes up to tempt me."

"Let's go see Brodie," said Ben.

"Ben! Get thee behind me. I have fifteen dollars in my pocket! What are you trying to do?"

"Okay, go buy some candy."

Klaus lifted his chin. "I will." He stepped out purposefully.

Ben walked with him, saying nothing, until they came to a cross street. Straight ahead was the candy and postcard shop. On the right a wide, clean sidewalk led past the steps of St. Monica's church. Ben spoke. "We could go to the tire shop."

"I knew you were going to bring that up again," said Klaus. "I don't understand what you're trying to do. Why are you messing with me this way?"

"It'll be okay," said Ben. "I'm your preinstalled sober escort."

Klaus turned sharp right and strode along the sidewalk.

Ben said, "You always go behind the church, through the alleyways, when you go to see Brodie."

"The most direct way is along the sidewalk in front of St. Monica's."

They approached the steps to the brownstone church. Klaus tapped his watchless wrist and said, "Oh, look. Father Aggie is hearing Confession right now. I feel an unburdening coming on." He veered off the sidewalk and took long strides up the stone steps.

"The tire shop will be closed," said Ben

"And Brodie will be at the gas station next door for at least an hour after that." Klaus opened one side of the heavy double door and let it close slowly behind him. He passed through the vestibule and through the next set of doors, paused to touch his fingers to the holy water in its little font, and swiftly crossed himself.

To the left, people sat and knelt here and there in pews near the door to the confessional. Klaus walked partway up the center aisle and genuflected toward the tabernacle. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ben doing the same thing, but Klaus didn't look directly at him. Ben was impatient with him, and Klaus didn't feel it was appropriate for his brother to give him bitter looks while they were both supposed to be adoring the Blessed Sacrament. Klaus recalled with mixed fondness, amusement, and exasperation that Ben never could behave himself in church.

Klaus stayed on one knee and gazed at the crucifix behind the altar, trying to imagine Five having done so alone for so many years. He imagined Number Five walking out of the half-destroyed church after his vigil, knowing nobody would be outside, that there would be no one anywhere, in any direction, ever. Klaus's Apocalypse wouldn't have been so empty. It would have been full of people talking about the Apocalypse.

Klaus straightened and was about to slide into a pew when Father Agnelo and a parishioner stepped out of the little office that served as a confessional. A person who had been waiting got up and began moving sideways out of their pew.

Klaus jumped up onto his pew and called out in a stage whisper, "Father Aggie!" He waved wildly, then put his hands together in a pleading position and mouthed, "Help."

Father Agnelo said to the waiting parishioner, "Pardon me. You may be seated again. I'll be with you in a moment. I have to attend to an emergency." He beckoned to Klaus, and Klaus jumped down off the pew and scurried through the rows to the confessional.

Father Agnelo closed the door behind them, and Klaus asked, "Can you hear my confession? And then give me a really strong penance that I can pray here. Keep me in a pew for two hours."

Father Agnelo was tall, thin and lanky. He had a wide mouth that seemed to be always frowning, but his eyes could change expression rapidly from solemn to smiling. "I can do that," he said. "Are you able to wait your turn, if I give you something to do in the meantime?"

Ben heaved a noisy sigh. Klaus said, "I can wait. I think I can wait."

"Have you a rosary with you?" Father Agnelo inquired.

Klaus checked his palm as if he might find one there, then stuck his hand in his pocket fruitlessly. "I have twenty or so in my nightstand drawers, but I don't think to take one when I leave the house."

"Wait one moment." Father Agnelo went into an open hallway off the office.

Klaus stood waiting with his hands piously folded, and Ben fidgeted. He waved a hand in front of Klaus's face. Klaus serenely closed his eyes. Ben said, "Does this bug you? I'm not touching you."

Klaus opened his eyes and snapped, "Knock it off, Ben!" just as Father Agnelo returned.

He handed Klaus a white plastic rosary in a little, ziplocked plastic bag. "You can say this until it's your turn for Confession. Is Ben with you?"

"Yes." Klaus scowled.

"That's good, he can help you."

"He's not being any help. He's trying to make me go see my … friend. You have to help me. Here, take my money. Put it in the collection box or buy yourself a hamburger with it. Call it a donation to the Church either way." Klaus pushed the crumpled fifteen dollars into Father Agnelo's hand.

The priest asked carefully, "Where did you get this?"

"My brother gave it to me for my use. It's mine."

"Do you need it to buy food?"

"I can absolutely guarantee you that if Ben has his way, not one penny of that will go to buy food."

"What does Ben want you to do?"

"He wants me to go see this … man Brodie at the tire shop. This is not safe behavior. Please help me. Please."

"That seems strange. Has Ben ever done anything like this before?"

"No. Just the opposite."

Father Agnelo took Klaus's hands and folded his own over them. "Klaus, I think … I think maybe you should do what Ben is asking you to do."

"Are you kicking me out?"

"No. You are welcome to stay. I just think you should consider going where Ben is asking you to go. See what he wants."

"Father Aggie is throwing me to the wolves?"

Ben said, "Oh, so I'm 'wolves', now? Multiple wolves?"

"I trust I'm not doing that," said Father Agnelo. "Or that if Ben is leading you among wolves, you will be safe. Let's pray."

He paused. Klaus was too distressed to respond or to collect himself for prayer, but Father Agnelo went ahead anyway. "Saint Monica, together with your son, Saint Augustine, pray for Klaus and help him resist his dangerous appetites. Saint Gertrude, as patron saint of the departed, you are the patroness of Klaus's work among souls. Pray for him to be courageous."

"Amen," said Klaus. "Thank you, Father."

"Let's go," said Ben.

Klaus crossed himself with holy water again at the exit and squared his shoulders.

He stepped out through the main doors, but instead of going down the broad steps in front, Klaus went onto a raised sidewalk which ran along the wall of the church. He trotted down a concrete ramp, strode across the parking lot, and squeezed through a gap between the end poles of two chain-link fence panels. Beyond that was an open space paved with cracked blacktop. Klaus crossed it and entered the mouth of an alley.

The gray evening light did not follow Klaus and Ben into the alleyway. Klaus navigated easily; he could have done it by smell, he had so often made his way past all of the dumpsters between St. Monica's and the tire shop.

As he approached the back door of a familiar Chinese restaurant, Klaus saw bits of something glittering in the air ahead of him. Whatever the bits were, they extended from one side of the alleyway to the other. They glittered like raindrops, and Klaus held up his open hand, but no rain fell into it.

The restaurant's back kitchen door was always open, and out rolled lush, mellow smells which mingled with the dumpster odors of musty oyster sauce and pungent rotten vegetables. Orange light from a bulb above the door glinted off of the little things spanning the alleyway. They glittered more and more as Klaus stepped forward, until he could see that every shining object was a bead on a string. A bead curtain stretched across the alleyway. Klaus couldn't see where the strings ended above him. A white lamp from way up on the building opposite the restaurant reflected off of the beads, showing them twinkling away and evidently extending beyond its light. At street level the curtain stopped just above the pavement.

Klaus reached out and took a large, oval bead, golden-brown like tiger eye, between thumb and forefinger. He stared at it and moved it, and the string it was attached to came along with it. All the other beads on that string came too, mostly small pale green balls. The curtain ran all the way to the back of the Chinese restaurant. This made Klaus think of the smell, but the rotten odors had disappeared. However, he could still smell delicious garlic chicken and shrimp through the open back door. "Ben, is this really here?"

Ben was beyond the curtain; he had turned to stand and wait for Klaus. The beads interrupted his image and his voice was muffled. "Is what really where?"

"This bead curtain." Klaus ran the tips of his fingers across the strings and the beads clacked gently. "Do you hear that?"

"I hear the blower vent from the restaurant. Some noises from inside the kitchen."

"No. The beads."

"If what you're looking at is actually there, I can't see it."

"I kind of thought so," said Klaus, staring up at the curtain disappearing into the sky. He took a handful of strings, feeling the hardness of the beads; he peered at the lustrous colors of the beads in his hand: deep, dark red with pink streaks. "For beads that aren't real these are amazingly detailed."

"I don't see anything," said Ben.

"That's okay. They're probably not here." Klaus felt as if his emotions were both inside and outside of himself, separated in the handful of lines. It seemed as if his feelings were being pulled along a stream, a very narrow braid of wire for each feeling, some that he hadn't felt in a long time but recognized instantly. The force of feeling seemed to pull his younger self forward and out of himself and into his handful of beads. The emotions ran up the glittering lines. He dropped all but two strings and held love and fear right next to each other in his hand. Then he dropped everything but the fear and squeezed one bead in his palm. The string, made of intense emotion, quivered and sang. The bead was solid, cool when pressed in his hand, and unlike the string, it was still, quiet.

Klaus shivered without being cold. "Ben. I'm afraid to die." He dropped the bead and the end of the string swung in small arcs until the weight of all the small beads held it still. "I'm the one who can hear the dead. Who will hear me? Who will listen to you?"

"You don't listen to me," said Ben. His voice no longer sounded muffled.

"It's beads. Like the rosary. I think a bead hallucination is about the rosary. What if it's not a hallucination? What if it’s a vision? It's a wall, and it means the Virgin Mary doesn't want me to go see Brodie."

"Then she can take it up with me, because I want you to get your ass out of this alley and go see Brodie."

Klaus lifted some of the strings on the backs of his hands to let himself pass through. The beads clicked pleasantly against each other, and clicked back into place behind him. He turned after stepping through, and the curtain was gone.

The tire shop was closed. Ben and Klaus went to the gas station next door instead. The bell jingled as the door fell shut behind Klaus. Ben was inside ahead of him, surveying the selection of potato chips. The woman at the cash register smiled. "Hi, Klaus!"

Klaus nodded and gave her an uncertain smile, knowing he was about to be loudly interrupted.

From the snack corner by the hot foods and microwave came a hearty, "Klaus Hargreeves!" Brodie laughed in his evident delight at seeing Klaus.

Klaus went slowly to the corner, which smelled strongly of hotdogs. Brodie held a coffee cup in his right hand; he shifted it to his left and raised his right hand, and Klaus increased his pace slightly so as to appear more eager, raised his own hand, and Brodie gripped it. Brodie's palm was so hot from holding his coffee that Klaus cringed. As soon as Brodie slackened his grip, Klaus let his own hand drop to his side and worked his fingers in an attempt to soothe his burning palm.

Brodie wore his jumpsuit from work at the tire shop, with his name embroidered on a breast pocket. He had eyeglasses with thick black plastic frames, and a black leather choker with a little chain composed of three silver skull pendants hanging from it. "Want some Crackerjack?"

"Don't take anything from him," said Ben.

"It would be easier not to do that if I hadn't come to see him in the first place, Ben."

Brodie shook the box. "No Crackerjack?"

"No, thank you," said Klaus. He looked to Ben for an approving nod, which Ben gave him.

"Been a long time, hasn't it?" said Brodie. "Feels like it. What, were you in longer than usual or did you forget about your friend?"

"No, yeah, I mean I was in for two months. They wanted to keep me ninety days this time but my family said they'd help me adjust for at least a couple months, so here I am."

Brodie pushed his glasses up and leaned on the hot dog counter. "I don't have anything for you with me."

"I don't have any money," said Klaus. "I gave my last dime to a priest. But he'll let me have it all back if I ask him." He fingered the Smarties wrapper in his pocket. The candies were crumbling and misaligning due to the handling; the roll now bent easily between his thumb and fingers.

"Tell him about Torgo," said Ben.

"Why?"

"Why what?" said Brodie.

"Tell him about your dog," Ben said.

"My family bought me a dog so I have to save money to buy steak."

"What kind of dog?"

"Um, I think a Minotaur."

"Can I come home with you and meet the dog? Walk with me past where I keep my small stash. Violeta should be there by this time of night, to let me in. I can let you have something as a gift from me, this once. You deserve to party a little, to celebrate being back in the land of the living. Should have come see me before this."

"It's impossible to get away from my family."

Brodie finished his coffee and they headed out into the street.


	6. Smarties

The sky above the rooftops was midnight blue. It lightened to royal blue down between the buildings, and faded to gray-blue at street level, outside the rings of yellow light made by street lamps. It was chilly, and there was a strong smell of gas near the pumps.

Klaus and Ben trailed after Brodie into an alley with buildings backed up so close to each other that the fire escapes alternated like interlocking blocks. There were a few trash cans; it wasn't a big enough alley for dumpsters. A layer of black grime lay in dunes against the bottoms of the buildings.

They came to a door in one of the buildings abutting the alley. A caged white lamp showed, tucked beneath a fire escape, a narrow, brick-red door criss-crossed with iron bars in a diamond pattern. Brodie clanked an iron knocker four times and slouched with his hands in his jumpsuit pockets. The brick-red door opened, and someone inside said, "Hey Brodie, come in."

"Come in?" Brodie asked Klaus, gesturing welcome.

"No," said Ben. "Wait outside."

"I guess I'll just … take in the fresh air right here," said Klaus.

Brodie was inside for five minutes, giving Klaus time to really notice the alley's old, sour smell.

Brodie came out. "Got it," he said, and held up a small plastic bag. Klaus knew Brodie was only showing him the bag and didn't mean to give it to him until later, but he raised a hand impulsively to reach for it. Brodie zipped the bag into a pocket of his jumpsuit. Klaus watched that pocket.

"Rosary," said Ben.

"What?" Klaus mumbled, lightheaded.

"Pocket. Rosary."

Klaus folded his robe out of the way and found the pocket of his corduroy pants, and inside it the baggie containing the rosary. Pressing the beads was like pressing pills in a bag.

Brodie was walking. Klaus stumbled along behind him. They emerged into a wider, dumpster-filled alley with whitewashed buildings that had lights on over their back doors. Klaus brought the rosary out of his pocket and looked at the white plastic crucifix under one of the lights. He put it back in his pocket and, through the baggie, bumped his thumbnail over the seams in the beads. Brodie, Klaus and Ben walked past St. Monica's on the clean sidewalk.

Torgo greeted them at the gate to the kitchen garden. Brodie crouched and opened his arms. "A Bullmastiff! Your family bought this for you? Wow."

Klaus stepped in a wide half-circle to give Torgo's lashing tail plenty of space and opened the kitchen door. Torgo trotted in behind him and Klaus grabbed the door jamb and made himself small so the dog's jaws wouldn't brush against his pants. Then Klaus had to get out of the way of Brodie gripping both sides of the doorframe and swinging his feet over the threshold.

Torgo sat by the refrigerator and stared at Brodie. Shiny saliva freckled the dog's lower lip. Brodie said, "Good idea, puppy." He opened the refrigerator and asked Klaus, "What's the dog's name? Want me to make you a sandwich?"

"His name is Torgo. I don't need anything."

Brodie transferred salami and cheese to a cutting board on the kitchen island while Torgo watched and drooled.

Diego came in through the archway and halted. "Who let you in?"

Brodie said with his mouth full, "I'm visiting." He gestured with his sandwich as if it were an explanation. A piece of salami slid halfway out from between the slices of bread.

Torgo did not check the floor for fallen sandwich ingredients. He crossed the floor and stood beside Diego.

"Brodie's meeting the dog," said Klaus.

"You let him in?" Diego asked more gently, of Klaus.

"Well—I … didn't say no, exactly," said Klaus. To Brodie he said, "Diego is my brother."

"Klaus invited you," said Diego to Brodie, "and that's … fine. This is his house, too. But you're uninvited as of now. Come back again, there'll be violent consequences."

"Whoa, easy," said Brodie. "What have you got against me? You don't even know me."

"You've never seen me," said Diego, "but I know you. I know all about you."

"Just trying to make a living," said Brodie.

Diego advanced a step. "And I'm just trying to save my brother's life. If I ever see or hear you near this house again, or even near the grounds, I'll cut off your nose and both of your ears, so there'll be nothing left to hold your glasses up."

"Look, I'm going. This is me, out the door."

"You don't take any food from this house," said Diego. "Give your sandwich to the dog."

Torgo stood at Diego's heel. Brodie shrugged, moved sideways and reached toward Torgo, getting just near enough to Diego to hold the sandwich in front of the dog's nose. Torgo ignored the sandwich and watched Brodie's face.

Brodie laid the sandwich on the floor. Torgo did not look at it.

Diego said, "Okay, Torgo," and Torgo devoured the sandwich and slobbered over the tiles to make sure it was gone.

Brodie opened the door and Diego held it open behind him. Diego said, "If Klaus says to me, years from now, hey, remember that time Brodie came to the house and you threatened to cut off his nose and both of his ears? I'll say yeah, I sure do, and I'll find you and cut off your ears and your nose."

"I have let myself out. I'm out of the house."

Diego went on. "I won't even need to get close enough for you to hear me coming, you'll just feel something whoosh past your face and then a sting and you'll bring your hand up and your nose will be gone. Torgo, come with me and see Brodie off."

Klaus went out and watched from the kitchen yard. Diego walked through the garden behind Brodie and locked the outer gate behind him. Torgo stood next to Diego, ears stiff, tail still, and they waited until Brodie could no longer be seen going away on the sidewalk under the street lamps.

Klaus stepped back inside. Ben was sitting on the kitchen counter. Klaus said, "Your hood is hiding your face. Let me see your face. Take your hood off."

Ben tugged his hood just far enough back so that Klaus could see that he was grinning.

"You knew Diego would scare him off! That's why you needed me to leave the dog at home. You knew if I took the dog with me, Brodie would meet Torgo out on the street and not come here to meet the dog and then Diego wouldn't see him. Why didn't you just tell me that was your plan?"

Ben tilted his head. "I tell you that I'm going to fix it so Diego will scare off one of your regular dealers, you can never buy from that guy again, and you're going to help me go through with it?"

"Um," said Klaus.

"That's what I thought," said Ben. "That's why I didn't tell you."

Diego came inside with Torgo, crouched next to him, and mussed up the dog's cheeks.

Klaus edged closer to them and asked, "Show me his teeth."

Diego pulled back Torgo's lip, making deep folds in the dog's cheek skin.

"Oh," said Klaus, taking a step back without meaning to. "They are as big as I imagined. I hoped my mind was exaggerating."

"Want to touch them?" said Diego.

"He could bite me. Couldn't he bite me?"

"He could if he wanted to," said Diego. He stuck his thumb in over the dog's lower jaw, right into the wet mouth. "But he doesn't want to. I absolutely promise you that."

"What if he changes his mind?"

"Touch one tooth."

Klaus stood silently, looking at the mouth, looking at Diego.

"Do it for me," Diego said.

Klaus moved forward. "How do I do it so I don't make him mad?"

"He's not mad, he's a happy boy." Diego made a smooching face close by the dog's cheek. Torgo stuck his tongue out and withdrew it with a slurping noise. "Here, I'll help you." Diego gripped Klaus's hand. "Put your finger right here. On the big canine tooth."

Klaus touched it. It was slick and hard.

"Feel the tip," said Diego.

Klaus moved his finger down the curve to the point of the tooth.

"See, it's not razor sharp, is it."

Klaus said, "No. It's a normal tooth." Diego let Klaus's hand go and Klaus wiped his finger on his robe.

"It doesn't have to be too sharp," said Diego, "because he can exert so much pressure with his jaws he could break your hand without having sharp teeth."

"But he didn't want to."

"That's right, he didn't want to. How are you feeling?"

"Kinda—kinda giddy? I think I'm going to start laughing. I might be hysterical."

"You go sit down, buddy. You did good. Good work." Diego headed out of the kitchen.

Klaus brought out the powdery roll of Smarties. "Diego, I need more Smarties. These are falling apart."

Diego paused in the archway. "I hid a roll in the kitchen." He walked out and Torgo followed him.

Klaus held the Smarties in their partially opened wrapper in his cupped hands. He looked aimlessly about the room. "Somewhere in the kitchen … Ben—" but Ben had disappeared again. Klaus picked a Smartie out of the wrapper, rolled it on his tongue and ate it. He wrapped the rest in a napkin and checked under the stack of napkins for the hidden fresh roll. He opened a few cupboards and pulled out drawers in the kitchen island. The freezer was empty, and so was the fruit drawer in the refrigerator.

Up on a shelf, next to the small window over the sink, sat a milk-glass candy dish shaped like a hen sitting on her nest. Klaus brought it down and found he was shaking so hard he couldn't make himself hold the candy dish without rattling the lid. He put the dish on the counter and went out of the kitchen, calling Diego.

Diego called back, "In the front hall."

Diego and Number Five were sitting on the couch in the entryway hall, talking. Torgo lay snoring on the rug. Klaus leaned over the back of the couch between his brothers, clutched Diego's shoulder and said, "I can't. I can't do this."

"It's an interesting sensation," said Five.

"What is?" asked Diego.

"Being interrupted," said Number Five.

"I just need Diego because I can't find the Smarties and I have the shakes."

"Dolores and I held long, long conversations and hardly anybody ever interrupted."

Diego asked, "Hardly anybody?"

Klaus came around the front of the couch and sat, cuddling close to Number Five. "You poor thing. It must've been so rough. Do you want to talk about it?"

Number Five stood up. "You can have my end of the couch."

Klaus said, "You don't have to leave. Stay. Let me give you a hug."

"Love you," said Number Five, already walking away.

"Love you, too," said Klaus forlornly.

Diego said, "I got you." He put his arm around Klaus, and Klaus tried to curl up enough to be completely covered by Diego's hug.

"I can't do this. I can't find the Smarties. Show me where they are."

"The idea is to keep you busy, bro. If we give you everything you want when you want it, you'll turn your seeking habit to finding money for drugs."

"I know that," snapped Klaus. "Please. I can't handle this. Where did you put it? At least come and play hot and cold with me?"

"When's the last time you ate?"

Klaus thought, and thought some more. "I had some coffee this morning."

"Think you can eat something?"

"I might throw up. Or—no, that's hunger."

"I'll make you some cinnamon toast. Come on."

Torgo snorted, hauled himself up off the rug and followed them to the kitchen.

Klaus sat on a stool and sprawled onto the island. Diego opened and closed the warming drawer compartment in the toaster before he plugged it in. Klaus said, "What is that, what are you doing? That's where the Smarties are! Give them to me."

Diego placed the firm, new roll in Klaus's palm. Klaus rolled it between his palms and sniffed it. "It'd be better if they had more scent. I can't get the smell of Brodie out of my nose. He smells like aftershave and tire rubber."

Diego held a spice container under Klaus's nose. "Here, take a whiff of cinnamon. Not a strong sniff, it'll make you sneeze."

Klaus took a whiff as suggested and then moaned and sank down with his head and elbows on the kitchen island.

Luther came in through the archway, dug a burrito out of the freezer, and put it in the microwave.

Diego set a plate of warm cinnamon toast before Klaus.

Luther was eating his burrito. Torgo watched the burrito-holding hand and wetly licked his chops.

Klaus munched toast. "I have a headache. I'm in withdrawal."

"It's definitely not withdrawal," said Diego. "Not now, anyway. And I don’t even think headaches are a post-withdrawal thing. Are they?"

Klaus groaned. "I don't know."

"I'll get you some aspirin."

"No," moaned Klaus.

"You won't get addicted," said Diego.

Klaus sobbed.

"Okay, you can drink some water and see if the headache goes away." Diego brought Klaus a glass and patted him on the back, then rubbed a circle between his shoulder blades before he took his hand away.

"Wait," said Klaus, "will you do that again?"

"What?"

"Rub my back."

Diego drummed a little patting rhythm on Klaus's shoulders. "Want a backrub?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, go to your room and lie down."

"Really?"

"Would you rather stay here?"

"You're just going to give me a backrub in bed? Just like that? Really?"

"Yeah, why not? I can do that for you."

"What's the catch?"

"What catch?"

"That's what I'm asking you," said Klaus. "I get a backrub from you, what's the catch?"

"There is no catch."

"No catch? No conditions? This isn't: Klaus, I give you a backrub, but then you have to grow up and stop asking for Smarties for three weeks?"

"Nothing like that. Anyway, I gave you the Smarties, I'm not gonna take them away from you."

"The next time it's raining, and I want you to drive me to the park so I won't get wet on the way, so we can feed bread to the ducks, and you tell me that's stupid, because I'm going to get wet in the rain at the park anyway, and I say _please_ , and you would normally say okay, will you say no because you gave me a backrub this one time?"

"No."

"Luther, Luther." Klaus raised his arms weakly as he slumped sideways on the stool. "Carry me."

"Where to?"

"My room."

Luther wolfed the rest of his burrito in three bites, except for the end of the tortilla, which he dropped. Torgo smashed his face down over it and snarfed it up, leaving a patch of spit on the tiles.

Luther carried Klaus to his bed and dumped him gracelessly on it crosswise. Klaus said, "Help me sit up and you can take your shirt back."

Luther rolled his eyes, but he let Klaus hold his hands and got him upright while Klaus bent ragdoll-fashion at the waist and did nothing to support himself. Luther rolled the tank top off of him, unzipped the sweater and worked it off over Klaus's arms. Then he let Klaus flop backward across the bed. Klaus kicked off his boots and wiggled out of his corduroys.

Klaus arranged himself lengthwise on the bed and rolled over onto his belly. He wiggled his shoulders and arms out of his robe and slipped it down to just above his waist.

Luther ducked out of the bedroom, and Diego sat on the edge of the mattress.

"I'm shivering. Are my eyes watering?" Klaus tugged at his lower eyelid with his fingertip and craned so Diego could see his face. "Do my eyes look watery to you?"

"You're not detoxing," said Diego. "That's over with. You could be having post-withdrawal symptoms, but you're not actively detoxing."

"I know all that. I guess by now I know more about it than anyone in this house does. My arms have goosebumps."

"That's because your robe is half off and your arms aren't covered."

Klaus stuck his forearms under his pillow. The underside of the pillow was chilly, and his upper arms got even goosebumpier. "My eyes are watering. They are. And my nose is running."

Diego picked up a white pill bottle from the nightstand, rattled it once, and plunked it back down closer to the bed.

Klaus inched up on his elbows, half sat up and with his thumb pushed the lid off the bottle. He shook a few cinnamon Red Hots into his palm. "These are only sugar and cinnamon oil, right?"

"Right. Sugar, corn syrup—" Diego picked a half-flattened cardboard candy box out of one of his many pockets and read from it. "Here's the list: acacia or gum arabic, artificial flavor, confectioner's glaze—"

Klaus stopped him. "Don't let me see the box. Don't show me the box. I want to believe they come out of a bottle."

Diego tucked the candy box back into his pocket. "We won't let you have anything that can hurt you. If you still want a backrub, settle down."

Diego rubbed Klaus's shoulders inelegantly but with the perfect amount of pressure. Klaus rolled his shoulders and squirmed in appreciation. Diego moved lower and worked his knuckles in below Klaus's shoulder blades and down to the middle of his rib cage.

"Perfect spot," murmured Klaus.

Diego dug into that spot until Klaus sighed and went limp. Then Diego pinched and rubbed the back of Klaus's neck.

Klaus said, "Say the word and I'll saddle-soap your leather for you."

"I told you," said Diego, "there are no conditions."

He kneaded Klaus's upper arms. After a while Klaus shrugged out from under Diego's fingers and gave a little moan of contentment. "I got all hydrated and now I have to pee."

He got out of bed and found as his robe fell away that he had neglected to put anything on underneath after he had taken off his corduroys, and was now unintentionally nude. Diego made no objection, and Klaus stepped out into the hall.

It was lit by one wall sconce and the dim glow reaching out into the hall from his bedside lamp. In the semi-darkness it occurred to him to wonder where the dog was, and he glanced behind him and was relieved to see Diego standing watch against the open bedroom door.

Number Five's bedroom door creaked open, and as soon as Five leaned out into the hall, Klaus greeted him expansively. "Little Number Five!"

Number Five stepped all the way out. He was barefoot, and his pale pajamas glowed softly in the light from the wall sconce. "Good evening, Klaus."

Klaus said admiringly, "Your pajamas are looking sharp. Those lapels are like blades. Impressive, considering they're made of flannel. The sleepy owls are adorable, though."

"They're not sleepy," said Number Five. "They're resting their eyes." He took two steps backward, leaned to see Diego behind Klaus and nodded to him. "What about you? Is that leather fused to your skin by now?"

"I'm ready for anything," Diego replied evasively.

"Well, I was just on my way to the kitchen. Enjoy your unappareled shenanigans."

Klaus extended a hand toward Five. "Don't rush off. Nakedness is natural. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Didn't say it was," said Number Five.

"Do you even do naked?"

"I do naked," said Number Five. "Do you even own a pair of pajamas? You must be freezing."

"I'm not sure. I'd have to check my dresser. Diego was just giving me an amazing backrub. Next he's going to sing me to sleep," said Klaus, with a glance back at Diego.

"If you want me to," said Diego.

Klaus asked, "Sing one of Mom's lullabies."

Diego nodded agreeably.

"We're going back to bed in a minute," said Klaus to Number Five. "Do you want to come with us?"

Number Five made a sound in his throat. He disappeared in a ripple of universe. Klaus and Diego looked at each other.

Diego shrugged. "Spooked him."

************


	7. Sidewalk Chalk

Klaus was listening to a Monkees tape on his headphones. In the lull between songs he heard his name being called—not by a dead person. Klaus lifted the headphone from one ear. "Is that Allison?"

"Hello, Klaus? Are you home?" It was Allison's voice.

Klaus threw on a skirt and loosely tied his robe. He called, "Where are you?" at the same moment as Allison called the same question to him.

She laughed and answered, "Living room."

"Coming!" Klaus ran the last few steps, arms open, sleeves fluttering.

He threw his arms about Allison's waist and recognized a faint touch on his upper arm as her version of an affectionate pat. A smooching sound near his cheek meant that she was supposed to have kissed him.

“Ben gives firmer kisses than you do,” Klaus admonished her. “But never mind that. What did you bring? Is that ice cream? Did you bring me ice cream?"

Allison said, "It is an ice cream bucket, but it's not ice cream. It's a nice day out. I brought sidewalk chalk." She hefted the bucket and smiled uncertainly.

Klaus gave a little bounce and clapped his hands. "A celebrity is going to draw on the sidewalk with me! Wait. Let me find out if Dolores wants to go, too. I think she has a new parasol she wants to try out."

They took Dolores outside with them. Klaus knelt on the sidewalk. Allison sat near him, took up a piece of chalk, and announced, "I can't draw."

" _Pfff_. That's not true."

"Can we at least start with something easy?"

"Basic rainbows," said Klaus.

A few minutes later Allison said, "The last curve gets too small to draw in. I can't make a whole, real rainbow, because I can't fit all the colors in."

"That doesn't matter. It looks beautiful," said Klaus. "But if you want to fit it all in, make the smallest curve first and then color bigger around it. This isn't like a little sheet of paper. You'll never run out of room, drawing on the sidewalk."

Klaus got tired of rainbows before Allison had finished her second one. He asked, "Dolores, what do you want to see?" He informed Allison, "Dolores wants to see sheep."

Allison laughed disbelievingly. "I can't draw animals!"

"Oh, come on, you can, too. It's the same as those clouds that are on the ends of your rainbows. Just add a face and some feet."

"All right. For Dolores, I'll try. But they won't be recognizable sheep."

"I'll help you."

When they had finished with many-colored, variably-shaped sheep, Klaus made a dragon with a long, curly tongue. They were giggling over caricatures they'd made, when it looked like rain and they gathered up the chalk and Dolores and went back inside. Klaus wiped his dusty, dry, chalky fingers on his skirt.

Allison said, "I have to go." She leaned over and kissed Klaus on the cheek, so lightly that he could barely tell she was there. He made a loud kissing sound near her cheek in return—she stood up straight before he could reach her with his lips—and she kind of hugged him. In fact, she briefly squeezed his shoulder, almost as if she were giving him a real hug.

************

Three hours later, Klaus sat on the floor in a corner of the aviary room, with his budgie book open to the page on household hazards.

Number Five spoke behind him. "What is it? Ben said you needed me."

Klaus wiped his eyes, smearing eyeliner on his hand. "You can't talk to Ben."

"I can," said Number Five. "I'm not you, I don't have your power, but when I hear Ben's voice in the back of my mind, saying, 'Klaus, Klaus, Klaus,' I come and find you."

"You can't hear him, you're making that up. Watch where you step. I can't find Sky. He's in the house somewhere, as long as nobody opened a window."

"I can talk to Ben a little, the same way you can move through space and time a little."

Klaus gave him a dark, confused glower.

"You're using a version of my power right now, just sitting here," said Number Five. "What's this about Sky?"

"What's this about you being able to talk to Ben?"

"If it's easier for you, think about how you can throw knives, just not the way Diego can. Diego can hear Ben a little, too. He was saying the other day how Ben thought something we were talking about was funny."

Klaus stormed, "If you can talk to Ben, then why don't you listen to him? He's lonely and frustrated and … and I refuse to continue on the grounds that I might incriminate myself. My bird is missing." Tears came out of his eyes and he wiped them with the base of his thumb. "Allison and I said goodbye, and then I told Allison I was going to go out and party. She wanted to know if there were going to be drugs and I said if I was lucky there were, and she let out three of my parakeets and she told me to find them and then she had to leave."

"You found two, right?"

Klaus nodded. "Are you sure Mistie wouldn't eat Sky?"

"I'm sure she wouldn't. She might even help you to find him if she sees him flitting around. Reading that right now is probably not productive." Number Five leaned down and gently tried to remove the budgie care book from Klaus's hands.

Klaus pulled it back. "I'm not done with the list of hazards." A word on the page came into focus. "Chimney. Chimney. The chimneys!"

Klaus scrambled up and ran out to the balcony, clutched the railing and leaned over it, not that he could see the status of the living room fireplace chimneys from there. Number Five vanished, and reappeared in the living room. "No fires," he called up.

"But the handles—I mean the dampers! Are the flues open?"

Number Five touched the lever of the smaller fireplace's flue, bent down and looked up inside the chimney. "It's closed." He went to the larger one. "The damper handle is down," he said, but he pulled it anyway, then looked up inside to make sure. "It's tightly closed."

Klaus clutched his own hair to try to adjust to the sudden emotion change. When he felt less nauseous he hurried down to the living room, pulled both fireplace handles and looked into the chimneys himself. He didn't doubt Number Five. It was just to put a cap on the spikes of anxiety and dips of relief. He glanced around at the many things upon which a budgie could be perched, or behind which he could be hiding. "Sky, are you out here, somewhere, buddy?"

He heard a chirp.

Number Five heard it, too. Klaus could tell because Five froze, trying to locate which direction the sound had come from. Klaus called, but the chirp did not repeat.

"What's Sky's favorite food?" asked Number Five.

"I don't know that about him yet."

"We'll figure something out. Meet you in the kitchen." Number Five turned and half-vanished as if he had lifted a curtain aside. The invisible curtain dropped back into place around him, and he blinked away.

Klaus let out a little sigh. He unhurriedly climbed the stairs and found Sky's antique carrying cage in the bird room. He poured a handful of birdseed onto the floor of the cage and went slowly back down to the kitchen with it.

Number Five had a small ceramic plate set out on the counter. He was opening and closing cupboards. When Klaus walked in, Number Five said, "You could peel and slice that banana."

Klaus sliced some grapes while he was at it. He found some cold, cooked sesame pasta in the refrigerator and arranged a little pile of it on the plate.

They sat together on a couch in the living room. Number Five held the cage on his lap. He kept the sliding wire door open with his finger, providing admittance to the hopefully-enticing plate of food and the seed scattered around it.

Klaus called for Sky by name, interspersing that with encouraging chirps and kissing noises. "Help me, Five. You call him too."

Number Five said, "He knows you better." Nonetheless, he made awkward chirping sounds.

Eventually they were answered by a bright, piercing chirp, coming from behind and above them. Klaus and Number Five turned in their seats and searched the wall behind them. Finally they spotted a bit of blue among the antlers above the large fireplace

Klaus held up his finger as if to coax Sky to step onto it, though he was nowhere near within reach. The budgie hopped back and forth among the antler tines, then flapped his wings and flickered out of sight somewhere farther down in the living room.

Number Five spoke. "I used to have to save a teaspoon of food, so I could trap roaches. I see them on this plate now. Moving around. I think I hear their feet on the ceramic."

"I've had that experience," said Klaus.

"You didn't want to eat yours."

"Sometimes they looked as if they were made of chocolate-covered almonds," said Klaus.

"Ah." Number Five nodded, staring at the plate.

Klaus said, "Somebody sent some chocolate-covered almonds to the treatment center one time as a part of a gift for all of us inmates. They told me later that they couldn't make me stop screaming for an hour."

Number Five glanced at him.

Klaus stared over Five's shoulder and gave a nod toward a spot across the room. "Look," he whispered. "Sky is much closer." He spoke aloud. "Come on, Sky, come and get the delicious treats. You wouldn't mind if they were really roaches, would you? Uncle Number Five would share with you, yes he would."

"I'm not going to bring it to you," said Number Five in the direction of Sky’s chirps. "You have to come and get it."

Sky made a long sweep from the back of an armchair and landed on top of the cage. Number Five sat rigid. Klaus offered his finger, but Sky skittered down the opposite side of the cage and in through the door. Number Five sat silently. "Close the door," said Klaus.

Number Five gave a start and let the door drop. Sky picked happily at sesame noodles.

Number Five said, "I can't believe an animal came to me. Nobody ever comes to me. I call and call and nobody ever comes."

Klaus said reassuringly, "I'm right here."

Number Five put the cage on Klaus's lap and stood up.

"Stay," said Klaus.

"I can't be here. I can't believe that you're here."

"Stay," Klaus said again.

Number Five looked over his shoulder at Klaus and took a few steps across the floor as if heading out between two of the living room pillars, but before he reached them he disappeared.

Klaus made friendly little noises to Sky through the cage bars until Sky made a friendly little sound back. Klaus took him upstairs and brought one of the white wrought iron chairs into the aviary.

Some time had passed when Number Five appeared in the room, looking small and shy. "What are you up to in there?"

Klaus said, "Teaching them to come when called."

Five watched Klaus's efforts to train the budgies. Eventually he asked, "How's it coming?"

"It's hard to tell," said Klaus. "Some of these little guys like to sit on me all the time, so it's difficult to know whether they're being trained to come when called. Some of them come eventually, and a few never have so far. It'd be better if they didn't need to know how in the first place. The book says that cutting their wing feathers can keep them from flying around in the house and getting hurt, if for instance Allison lets any of them out again because she doesn't trust me. But the illustration has a lot of lines, and at least two of the lines are dotted, and I'm pretty sure you're only supposed to cut along one of those dotted lines. And then at the end of all those diagrams and instructions it says you can have a professional do it."

Klaus gently scratched one of the friendlier budgies. It arched its neck to encourage him. "I can just see how that would go. I would put several budgies in a carrying cage, you'd give me the money to spend at the pet store, Ben would turn his back on me for five minutes, or I just wouldn't listen to him, and—you know I can't do things like that, Number Five … I'm so useless." A budgie landed on Klaus's head and preened his hair. The tiny bird pulled hard enough with its beak to hurt a little.

"You're not useless," Number Five said briskly. "Want me to do it for you?"

"You can do that?"

"I can do everything." Number Five picked the book up from where Klaus had dropped it earlier, flipped through it, read for a second, and said, "I'll be right back." Space dimpled around him and he was no longer there. In a minute reality wavered again, and Number Five appeared with sewing shears. He sat cross-legged on the floor near the aviary. "Here. Give me a parakeet."

"Like, just give it to your hand?"

"Yeah, bring one out here and sit with me."

Klaus came out of the aviary and gingerly handed him a yellow, teal, and white budgerigar.

The budgie screeched hoarsely at being enclosed in Number Five's palm. "Here, give me your wing, little guy." Number Five held the shears in his right hand. He kept the bird on its back in his left palm and with two fingers he held the wing outspread. With a tiny grinding sound of the blades meeting, the shears made one, long snip and the tips of the wing feathers fluttered to the floor. The budgie's screeches petered out, though it continued to eye the shears with concern.

Number Five turned the budgie over so he had access to its right wing, and spread and snipped those feathers.

Klaus sat next to him, leaning in and watching. "How many times have you done this before?"

"One time."

"Only once before this?"

Number Five opened his hand and the budgie ruffled its feathers and wiggled its tail. "Once just now. Get me another bird."

"You've never done this before?"

"I just learned."

"Well, maybe I could try."

"I'm sure you can do it. I'll help you," said Number Five.

Klaus tried, and when Number Five told him what to do step by step, found he could manage it. When Klaus's hand shook, Number Five supported the heel of his hand from underneath.

"Five, can you tell me something?"

"Probably."

"When you go from here to there without walking—"

"I do walk. I take one step."

"Okay … without taking more than one step, where do you go?"

"Where you said. From here to there."

"But what's in between?"

"There's nothing in between."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"What's it like in there?"

"I'm not in there. I don't go in there. My power isn't to go anyplace special. It's to go from here to there without going in between."

"Make it easy for me."

"My power is to find preexisting folds in space and time and use them."

"Preexisting?"

"Yes. Preexisting folds."

"In space and time. Are there any in this room? I mean, I guess there are, since you've been in and out a few times without using the door."

Without looking up, Five pointed off to his left, then at the aviary, then hooked a thumb straight behind him. "And two on the other side of the room. It's pretty quiet in here."

"What happens if you step into one of those by mistake?"

"I don't make mistakes."

"What happens if you step into one of those spots—folds—on purpose?"

"I come out where it leads to."

"And you can tell that before you go in, right?"

"Yep. Get another bird, Klaus."

"And you've never sort of … fallen … in?"

Number Five was silent.

"Five?"

"Another budgie, please, Klaus," said Number Five.

************


	8. Luther's Room

Late at night, Klaus heard music and went in search of it. It was drafty in the hallway. Luther's bedroom door was open, and from inside came the sound of an Elton John record. Klaus peeked in. The window was open, the gauzy, amber curtains floating on a strong breeze. Luther sat with his mountainous shoulders hunched over his old schoolboy desk. Klaus clucked disapprovingly and passed behind him to shut the window.

"I prefer it open," said Luther.

The open window had a hazy appearance against the darkness outside. Klaus put out his hand to make sure of it. "When did you add a screen to your window?"

"When we bought your parakeets," said Luther.

Klaus pulled his robe tighter around himself and draped across Luther's back. "What are you up to in here?"

Luther turned a little in his chair so Klaus could see what he was doing. "Diego said that you were missing having to stick your thumbnail into a foil coating to get a fix. I'm making you some fake prescription drugs."

His worn desk was littered with teensy, cylindrical Tart ‘n’ Tiny candies. Next to the box they had escaped from were some empty blister packs and a pile of foil sheets. "I got these at the pharmacy. The candy and the stack of pill trays." Luther had a pair of tweezers in his hand. He painstakingly lifted a Tart ‘n’ Tiny. "If I squeeze them at all, they hop out of the tweezers." He dropped the candy in an indentation in one of the trays.

Luther repeated the process, slowly filling a blister pack, while Klaus leaned on him and yawned. Luther peeled the backing off of a foil sheet, lined it up with the edges of the tray and pressed it into place. "Here." He handed the full pack to Klaus. "Try this out."

Klaus heard the sound of Torgo's approach in the hall, but he didn't register it. In the back of his mind, when he heard a shuffle and a click of claws, he was aware that the dog was there, but he thought it hadn't come as far as Luther's room, or had moved on past the open door. There was no further sound of the dog's steps, and Klaus had nearly forgotten he'd heard them. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a tawny apparition in the doorway, turned to see if it were a dead person he was familiar with, and startled violently at the sight of Torgo's black, wrinkly muzzle.

Klaus jumped onto the bed and tucked his feet well out of the way. Torgo sat with his toes on the threshold, blocking the doorway.

Luther snapped his fingers, and the dog licked his chops with a sloppy sound, stood up and entered the room.

"Will he jump on the bed?"

"No," said Luther.

Torgo stationed himself behind Luther's chair. There wasn't much room between the desk and the bed, and Torgo's tail touched the underside of the bed frame.

Eyes on the dog, Klaus inched to the edge of the mattress and let his legs down. Torgo moved his head enough to look at Klaus's feet as they came down to his eye level, then looked away disinterestedly.

Ben said, "Good to see you overcoming your fears."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Klaus. "Why would I overcome fear? Fear is my lover."

"Your lover?" Klaus's brothers asked the question at the same time. Ben was skeptical, Luther was puzzled.

"Fear keeps me safe from overcoming it, so I don't do things like try to walk between the lands of the living and the dead. I'm referencing our earlier conversation. You see how I'm doing that?"

"You're not talking to me now, right?" asked Luther.

"Ben seems to believe I'm making some kind of symbolic gesture of bravery. He's such a poetically-minded, romantic young man."

"But—" Ben pointed at Klaus's knees and dangling feet, then at Torgo. The dog was extremely close to Klaus's toes.

"I'm stretching my legs," Klaus sniffed importantly.

He stretched enough, in fact, to feel the stiff hairs of the coat on Torgo's back part under his toes. On top, the coat was cool, but underneath, the dog's body heat rose to surround Klaus's feet. He pulled his legs back up onto the bed.

"You touched the dog with your foot," said Ben.

"I accidentally brushed its fur with my toes. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nobody made you do it. You're making serious progress."

"It's okay, Ben. I realize that denial is one of the tools you use to cope with your disappointment in me."

"I'm not disappointed in you," said Ben. "I'm proud of you."

"I support your owning those feelings, buddy."

"I'm not upset. I'm trying to praise you."

"Aw, thank you, sweetie! I'm moved that you think I've done something worth praising."

"Yes. You touched the dog. With your foot."

Klaus gave Ben an "Oh, you" wave of his hand and focused on his new blister pack. He pressed his thumbnail at the edge of one of the dimples, but he could barely score it. He tried pushing the indentation up through the foil to release a Tart ‘n’ Tiny, but the pressure wasn't enough to break the foil. He punched the foil with his thumb and this time made a small slit, but couldn't peel it back far enough to get the candy out. "Argh! I hate these things!"

"But I thought you wanted it that way," said Luther.

"I do!" Klaus got the candy out, but it popped from the pack in such a way that it rolled under Luther's bed. "Luther. Put the lamp on the floor." Luther got out of his desk chair and did as he was asked.

Klaus said, "Now you get under there and find it. Pretty please. I can't get on my hands and knees with the dog in here."

Luther lay on his side and moved the lamp, searching for the minuscule bit of candy. After a minute he used one hand to tilt the bed off two of its feet and stretched his other arm underneath, dropped the bed again and shuffled backward and sat up. He gave Klaus the dusty candy and Klaus put it in his mouth, made a sound of gratitude, and swallowed.

"I could have given you another one," said Luther. He sat next to Klaus, and the little bed bore up magnificently.

"Are you kidding me? These are worth over three dollars apiece."

Luther thought for a second. "Those aren't real drugs."

"Don't say that about my Tart ‘n’ Tinys! They're street drugs. You can tell by the cutesy name."

"They're candy for kids."

"You really don't get how to play this game, do you."

"I don't like it. You're a powerful man and I don't like to see you let those things have control over you."

"You … you think I'm powerful?"

Luther nodded. "Well, yeah.”

Klaus squeezed Luther's bicep. " _You_ think I'm powerful."

Luther asked, "Where's Ben right now?"

"On the bed behind us." Klaus waved his fingertips to Ben. Ben nodded to him.

Luther looked at the spot Klaus indicated and then back at Klaus. "He's my own brother and I can't see him."

"Tell him," said Ben.

"Tell him what?" Klaus asked innocently.

"Tell me what?" asked Luther.

Ben said, "You know. Tell him what I said, what nobody else knows, and you never tell them."

"No."

"No?" said Luther. "Do you need to tell me something?"

"You're supposed to be sharing with your siblings, the ones who aren't dead, so you can get their support," said Ben.

At the same time, Luther went on, "You're supposed to be honest with us during your recovery, so we can all help you better."

"Oh, all right!" Klaus tilted his head back dramatically to give his brothers a moment to appreciate how generous he was with his sharing. "Ben says—he's always said, since he died, that my real power is to walk between life and death."

"What do you mean?" asked Luther.

"Ben thinks that I can do more than speak with the dead. That I could go there where he is, and come back." Klaus shuddered.

Luther said, "What happened when you tried it?"

"Tried it? I haven't tried it!"

"Why not?"

"I can't do it while I'm high!"

"But you're not high now," said Luther.

Klaus attacked the blister pack again, punched another Tart ‘n’ Tiny out and swallowed it. "I'm done talking about my powers and how I feel about them."

Ben said, "I'm not done talking about it."

"You remember the dog?" Klaus asked.

Luther said, "You mean Torgo? He's lying right there."

"I mean the ghost dog. I'm talking to Ben."

"I remember the dog," said Ben. "That dog actually ate that steak through you. You didn't just let the ghost dog taste it. You ate as if you were the dog."

"That was a dog," said Klaus. "Now imagine how I'd feel if you did what you used to do, using my body. You think I want your power? Your power is scary!"

"You don't have to tell _me_ that," said Ben. "I don't want to use my power. But you could let me really eat waffles and not just taste them. We could combine our waffle-eating powers. We'd be unstoppable."

"Which is it, babe? Am I afraid to go see you over there or am I afraid to have you come see me?"

"It's both. You have more than one power—well, it's all the same veil-busting power. You can try it with me. I wouldn't hurt you."

"I didn't say you would hurt me. I wouldn't accuse you of that."

Luther asked, "How could Ben hurt you?"

Klaus waved a hand. "He can't, so it doesn't matter."

Luther said, "Don't you think it's strange that nothing else like that ghost dog ever happened again?"

"Not so strange," said Klaus. "I learned to stop it. I didn't want to do things like that."

"I think you do want to," said Ben. "I think that your anxiety is because you're conflicted—"

"I'm speaking to Luther," said Klaus. To Luther, he said, "A little time after the dog went away, someone helped me until I could learn. He was this big—" Klaus spread his hands, searching for a word "—masculine ghost. I wasn't sure what to think of him. I wasn't sure I liked him, but he protected me. People get scary sometimes. You know, confused and angry. Sometimes they acted like that dog. And I'd try to talk to them. It didn't always work, and this big guy dealt with them. He would tell anguished, angry people bringing me their woes, 'What are you bringing this to a kid for? Go find a different medium.'" Klaus handed the blister pack of candies to Luther. "Get one of these out for me."

Luther took the pack. "What was the point of sealing it?"

Klaus tapped the pack and refrained from answering the question. "The big, strapping ghost stayed, I don't know how long, but I remember he came less and less the better I got with my power."

Luther fumbled with the pack, sighed, went to his desk, took a craft knife out of a drawer, and cut out a Tart ‘n’ Tiny. He dropped it in Klaus's palm and gave him the package back. Klaus laid the packet on his knee and stroked it absently.

Luther asked, "So he taught you your power?"

Klaus flicked his thumbnail back and forth over the corner of the blister pack. "Not really. He didn't seem to pay much attention to me—at least, he didn't speak directly to me—but somehow he was always there when people got out of control around me. And I got better at knowing who needed me right away and how to talk to frustrating people. He's been quiet for a long time."

Luther asked, "Weren't you worried that the scary ghosts would come back, you know, take advantage of the big guy being gone?"

"Not really. There was a time when the scary ghosts weren't really what scared me. Mother would sing me to sleep at bedtime, and when she turned out the light, some other girl or lady would take her place. Women singing to me in different languages. Grandmas and aunts, mothers and big sisters. I understood that they were from the past or from far away. I didn't quite understand or … internalize how they got so easily to where I was.

"But after a while I understood there was a line between me and the ghosts. And that crossing that line meant you didn't come back. I didn't know the term 'self-preservation', but I knew I had it and I was afraid I was going to lose it if I wasn't looking."

"I don't think nice women who sing lullabies would want to harm you," said Luther.

Klaus blinked several times. "Greek myths are loaded with creatures who’ll sing you to death. Did you ever think of that? The ancient Greeks would have a field day with you … in more ways than one." He leaned on Luther's upper arm. "I wasn't afraid that they would hurt me. They were so nice. I was afraid I would hurt myself. That I would go with them. To their countries, or whatever land they had come from. They didn't mean to scare me, they wanted to cradle me, meant to comfort me. But I was afraid that I would go with them, that I would—stay … in their arms."

"But now you know better," said Luther.

"Know better? Why do you think I need these?" Klaus rattled the Tart ‘n’ Tinys.

"Those aren't real."

"Don't mention that!"

"Remember, when we were little, I'd build models at night, and you'd come in and ask if you could sleep in my room? You begged me to not let you go away. Wanted to sleep in my bed."

"I remember,” said Klaus.

"I didn't know if you meant go away, as in, walk out of the house, or like the way Number Five would be in the schoolroom one minute and at the soda fountain two blocks away the next."

"I was afraid I would leave with them—the dead women—the kindly ones—without being awake to keep myself here. So I walked out into the hall, and your light was on. Usually, with your light on in here and you working on your models, and me in your bed, the dead would be quiet. I think the ones who were my friends thought that I was safe with you."

"You are," said Luther.

************


	9. "Chapter Nine"

Klaus placed his Polaroid camera on the mantel of the smaller living room fireplace, pushed the timer button, and posed looking up at the camera.

He laid the developing photo face down and waltzed around the living room humming to himself and watching the mantel clock. After ten minutes he got bored and almost flipped the photo over early. Klaus caressed it, but dutifully waited a full fifteen minutes. He turned it face-up and squinted at it. "Meh. I should have smiled more. I shouldn't look bored, or … I dunno, do I look shy? That's not right."

Klaus was also dissatisfied with the bland colors; it was too brown or sepia toned, and the line of his cheek, one of his best features, was kind of blurred, and besides, you couldn't tell he had freshened his eyeliner especially for this photo session. He threw the photo into the cold fireplace.

He opened the curtains wide for better lighting and tried a shot with the camera on a coffee table and himself sitting on the floor, then one where he sat in an overstuffed chair and held the camera. He couldn't find the right smile balance. When he grinned widely, he thought the result looked silly.

"Aagh! I'm never going to get a good picture!" Klaus stamped around the living room in his bare feet. "Why is this so hard? I am so frustrated right now! Goddamnit, I want a cigarette." He took several deep breaths. "Okay. I'm going to go ask for help." He went upstairs.

In Dolores's favorite sitting room, Number Five sat on a Louis XVI-style linen-covered settee, reading, and Dolores sat in a matching chair by the window, holding a book.

"Master Number Five," Klaus greeted him, trying to sound formal and Pogo-like. Number Five made a brief greeting noise in return and continued with his book.

Klaus passed in front of Number Five and approached the chair by the window. "Dolores, honey, can you take a nice picture of me? I want to send it to a guy whose name I can't remember."

He lifted Dolores's book from her hand, glanced about and saw a tasseled bookmark on a tiny occasional table, marked her place, and set his camera in her hand.

Klaus sat on the floor in front of Dolores's chair. Mistie, who had been curled on a pillow on the settee next to Number Five, made a _prup_ sound, hopped down, and strolled over to Klaus. She swished her tail high in the air and rubbed her head against him. Klaus boosted her into his lap. "When I press the button, you have eight seconds to look adorable. Okay, that's great. Do that when I press it." He supported the cat with one hand and knelt up to push the shutter button.

Klaus turned the photograph face-down on the occasional table, then sat on the floor petting Mistie and listening to Number Five slowly turn the pages of his book.

"Okay, time's up. Let's see how this looks. Oh—I knew Dolores would fix it." Mistie had begun climbing from Klaus's lap up his arm, but she had glanced over her shoulder at the camera in time for it to capture her quizzical expression. Klaus was half-smiling, and he looked pleased with himself, even happy. "This is definitely good enough to send to a friend."

Klaus encouraged Mistie to hop to the floor. He got to his feet and kissed Dolores on the cheek. "Thank you. You can work magic."

Number Five was at his shoulder. "Don't kiss her there."

"Don't be that way," said Klaus. "It was only a friendly kiss. If I merely tell her thank you she'll think I'm being standoffish."

Number Five said, "I kiss her there too often and it's wearing off her cheek. It'll turn white. Kiss her on the lips. I keep them protected. Lipstick over nail polish."

Klaus looked at the fading patch on Dolores's cheek and then at the rest of Dolores. "She's shot off at the waist," he observed.

Number Five yanked Klaus by his robe lapels until Klaus could feel Number Five's breath on his chin. "Are you saying I shouldn't have led those monsters onto her? Is that what you're saying? That I was weak and endangered Dolores?"

"Whoa. Angry little man. I'm only saying we all have scars."

Number Five turned his ear toward Dolores and his grip relaxed slightly. He said to Dolores, "Yeah, okay," released Klaus's crumpled robe, and gathered up Dolores. "We're going to bed."

"Have a nice time." Klaus wiggled his fingers in a wave.

"We're just going to sleep," said Number Five. He carried Dolores out through the door.

In a little, gilded, white console table, Klaus found an envelope and a pen. He addressed the envelope:

> To the EMT who always saves Klaus Hargreeves  
> c/o Mount Carmel Hospital

In the white margin of the Polaroid photo of himself and his cat he printed, "STILL ALIVE."

************

In the middle of Klaus's bed was a cardboard box, presumably left there by Pogo, who typically brought in the mail. It was securely taped shut and printed with Allison's return address. Klaus sat on the bed and plunked the box onto his lap; whatever was inside was slightly heavy. "What could she have sent me? Is it something I could sell for medicine?" Klaus groaned and clutched his hair. "Listen to me, I need help."

He carried the box out into the hallway, hollering for Pogo.

Pogo shuffled into the hall. "Yes, Master Klaus?"

"Come with me to the kitchen so I can cut this box open."

"The box cutter is in the—"

"I need you there with me," said Klaus. "I don't know what Allison sent me, but somebody else needs to see it as soon as I do. If it has any monetary value whatsoever, I do not want to have to explain what happened to it if I lose control."

"Very well," said Pogo, and he accompanied Klaus to the kitchen.

Inside the box was something wrapped in brown paper. Lying on top of it was an envelope containing a letter:

> Dear Klaus,  
> I know sometimes you still have trouble sleeping and I thought a nice heavy quilt might help. It's handmade but not by me. I'm hopeless at crafts. Anyway, I wanted you to know I was thinking of you.  
> Love and kisses,  
> your sister,  
> Allison

Inside the paper wrapping was a quilt of red, white, and yellow. Klaus hugged it to himself.

"Well," Pogo asked, "are you in any danger of parting with it?"

"I don't think so," said Klaus. "It's too cuddly."

That night, Klaus spread the quilt on his bed and Mistie immediately broke it in for him by putting pinpricks in it with her approving happy-paws. Klaus slept like a baby under the quilt. He felt a little disloyal for thinking that the quilt gave better hugs than Allison did herself.

The next day, Klaus doubled up the quilt, held it across his shoulders, and dragged it around the house with him, pondering the question of thanking Allison.

He went to find Dolores. She seemed happy to see him even though he interrupted an activity that Number Five had set up for her. She never got impatient with Klaus needing help with simple tasks. He carefully set aside her fresh book of crossword puzzles and her pen. Number Five had mentioned that Dolores usually did crossword puzzles in her head, but he always left a pen with her in case she changed her mind. Klaus placed his camera in Dolores's hand. He arranged the quilt on his shoulders flatteringly, pressed the timer button, pressed the shutter button, and sat back.

Klaus sent Allison the Polaroid of himself cuddled in the quilt and blowing a kiss at the camera.

************

Klaus raked the substrate in the aviary, washed the water bowls, and scraped the swings. Then he collected Emily.

Emily was Dolores's favorite budgie. She was always reluctant to leave Dolores. Emily would hop from Dolores's hand to her shoulder, scoot around behind her neck, and duck under her blouse collar, evading Klaus's offered finger while Dolores tried to hide her amusement.

Klaus eased up to Dolores and carefully asked Emily to step up onto his finger. He got her on the first try this time, and remembered to keep his body between the budgie and Dolores so Emily wouldn't attempt to return to her on the way back into the aviary.

Number Five had conveyed a request from Dolores to have a record player in the aviary room. She liked how the birds chattered along with rockabilly records. Klaus plugged it in and set some music playing, then went through the connecting door to the sitting room.

"Number Five. Oh good, you're here."

Number Five glanced at him over the back of the settee. "I've been here for an hour."

"As I said: Oh good, you're here."

"What do you want?"

"I might need more animals soon. I'm getting too good at this. I have…" Klaus wrung his hands and bit his lip "…spare time."

"If you need more animals, we can provide them. We haven't yet bought everything Pogo would allow. He told us he would draw the line after what you have now, and in addition a pair of Dutch bunnies, one small snake—not to exceed two and a half feet long, but I think he'd be eyeballing it and you could probably get away with three or four feet's worth of serpent—plus another cat or two, and a pony. That ought to keep you busy."

"I'd like a pony. Could it sleep in my bedroom?"

"You'd have to go through Pogo for that. He has agreed to a pony on the grounds, not indoors."

"But what if it doesn't work? What if you get me a pony and I'm still not busy enough to stay sober?"

"Just a minute." Number Five stood, took two steps and disappeared. He reappeared in front of Klaus and held out a sheaf of paper. "Read that. It's about you." He returned to the settee and his book.

Klaus read the top sheet aloud: "'Minutes of Academy Meeting taken by Vanya Hargreeves, Secretary and Vice-Evil-Mastermind.' I'm sensing you all had the sillies when Vanya took these minutes." He turned over the page and continued: "'Resolved: that we as an Academy, without question, save Klaus's life in moments of exigency, and that as such it is only logically sound and emotionally consistent for us to save his life all the time.'

"'Plan A: Give Klaus a lot of animals and imperil them repeatedly.'"

Klaus went to the drawer of the gilded, white console table and found a pen. "We'll put a big, fat checkmark next to that one.

"'Plan B: Have Number Five rewrite history so that Klaus never needs to become hooked on any unsuitable and unhelpful recreational pharmaceuticals. The Academy agrees on these acceptable additional variations in reality: Remove hornets; add more Sno-Cones. Question: would Klaus still be our Klaus?'"

Klaus was silent for some time. He waved the sheaf so the papers made a rustling, fluttering sound, and he said to Number Five, "You're just doing this to make me feel better." He flipped slowly through the pages. "Most of these pages are probably blank. At least the middle ones, to make it look thicker … oh … they're all full of plans. It keeps going. That must have been a long meeting spent talking about me.

"And here on the last page, ‘Plan Z: we chain Klaus to a wall in the attic and Luther plays motivational tapes to him. Afterward, Luther leads a therapeutic talking session in which he and Klaus share their feelings about the tapes.'" Klaus asked in a small voice, "Number Five? This wasn't … this wasn't a real plan, was it?"

"Oh, yes. It's a real plan. That's what Luther wanted to try first, as Plan A. We convinced him to bump it down the list."

Klaus swept across the room, leaned over the back of the settee, grabbed Number Five's chin from behind with both hands and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

Number Five tilted his head back and waved Klaus off. "You're welcome. But it's still on the list, in order, if Plans A through Y don't work."

"You have to let me do something for you now."

"I don't need anything, thanks."

Klaus went around the end of the settee, sat down and squeezed Number Five's knee. "Come on, get creative. Anything."

Number Five moved his book back to make room for Klaus's hand but otherwise his only response was a monosyllabic, noncommittal sound.

Torgo's plodding steps sounded in the gallery. He stuck his head in at the door of the sitting room and stood with his forepaws on the threshold, watching Klaus.

"Torgo," said Klaus. "Come on in and visit with us."

Torgo lunged forward. Klaus's hands curled into loose fists and his shoulders tensed, but it turned out that Torgo was only leaning his weight from standing still into a trot. He crossed the room, passed Number Five's feet, stood before Klaus and looked up into his face.

"Thank you for joining us," said Klaus.

Torgo searched Klaus's face. He seemed to be waiting for Klaus to say something more.

"Um, I don't know what to suggest," said Klaus. "Feel free to lie down."

Torgo shuffled his front feet until he was lying sphinx-like at Klaus's feet.

Klaus said, "Good boy."

Number Five glanced at the dog and snapped his fingers. "Come here where I can pet you."

Torgo turned his head to look at Number Five, but maintained his position on the floor.

Number Five made an encouraging kissing sound to him, and Torgo kept looking at him, but did not move.

"Okay, Torgo," said Klaus.

Torgo jumped up and curved around to put his head in Number Five's lap. Number Five patted him and rubbed behind one of his ears. Torgo whipped his tail back and forth. Klaus tilted his knee out of the way.

Number Five whispered something.

Klaus leaned toward him. "What was that?"

Number Five stood up slowly, looking over his shoulder toward the door to the aviary room. He crossed the sitting room quietly and eased the door shut. He disappeared, and rippled back into sight in front of Klaus.

He sat next to Klaus again and whispered, this time so Klaus could hear him, "What if I cheat on Dolores?"

"What makes you say that?"

Number Five looked at the closed door again and said in a low voice, "Yesterday, I caught sight of a lady who was easy to look at, and then I got mad at myself for looking at her. No, worried more than angry. Dolores says she doesn't have any problem with me dating other people. But what if—what if—" Number Five clutched Klaus's robe with one hand and looked down at his own lap. "What if I don't admit—what if I don't tell the truth about Dolores? I'm not crazy. I know how it sounds. How we sound. What if I act as if I'm ashamed of her, just to get a companion?"

"You haven't lied to us about Dolores," said Klaus. "Your own siblings. You can use us for companionship."

"I don't know how to have anyone for a companion, except for Dolores. I wanted nothing more than hugs when I got back, but I was too busy saving the world. I never thought to stop for touch, and now I don't know how."

"Oh, buddy, you only need to ask." Klaus leaned in, holding his arms open, offering.

Number Five made a slight motion with both hands toward his own chest. Klaus took one of Number Five's hands and pulled it back toward his own shoulder, patted the back of it to keep it there, and gathered Five into himself. Number Five clutched Klaus's shoulder and gripped Klaus's upper arm with his other hand, and Klaus put his arms around him and hooked his chin over Number Five's shoulder.

Number Five sat rigid in Klaus's arms. He tugged Klaus's sleeve. "Clothes make me mad."

Klaus glanced at his own robe and blouse.

"Not your clothes, any clothes. It makes me mad to even try. It's not enough."

"They do get in the way," said Klaus. He placed a hand on the back of Number Five's neck and lightly ruffled the hair at his nape. "Is this better?"

Number Five tensed even more. "I'm afraid you're not going to like what I want to ask of you."

"I did say anything."

"Anything?"

"There is nothing I wouldn't do for my baby-older brother."

Number Five clenched his fists, wadding up Klaus's robe. "I know you want to hug me and I want to let you, I know it's normal and you want to hug me with clothes on, but it's not working for me." He sat back and pushed Klaus off of him. "Could I come to bed with you tonight? I'd want to be nude. And I would need you to be nude, as well."

Klaus blinked and let a pause settle over them for a moment. "Anything. You have the chance to take me up on my offer to ask me to do anything, and all you want me to do is lie naked in bed and cuddle?"

"It's all I need," said Number Five, "and I had the impression that it might be one of your strengths."

"Brother, I am so good at it. I train for hours every night at lying naked in bed. It's grueling. I can ease you into it, give you some advice. We'll take Dolores and Mistie in with us."

"And Ben," said Ben.

"And Ben," agreed Klaus.

************


	10. Epilogue: Hidden Talents

Number Five woke under a warm quilt to the sound of "You Got the Love", the live version, on a record player. _Klaus's record. Klaus's record player in Klaus's room. Klaus's room at home._

Faint, white electric light shone from somewhere in the room. Number Five smelled leather, then heard leather squeaking and looked over his shoulder. Diego, in his leather outfit, lay on top of the quilt with his back to Number Five, snoring softly.

Number Five faced front. Under the quilt beside him he found Klaus's warm back. Klaus was murmuring to someone. Number Five patted Klaus's naked shoulders, ran his hand up and ruffled his fuzzy hair, gripped a handful of it, then slid his arm down and around Klaus's middle and snuggled his cheek against Klaus's shoulder. He felt the vibrations of Klaus's voice. Between them, Mistie lay purring on the blanket, curled against Number Five's shins.

"Yeah." Klaus laughed a little. "Torgo likes to sleep in Luther's room. Excuse me for a second. My brother is awake." He turned over and said, "Hey, how you doing, everything okay?" He ruffled Number Five's hair, then slowed the motion to a brief massage.

"Are you talking to Ben?"

"Madame Zofiya. You remember Madame Zofiya?"

"The name doesn't sound familiar."

"Oh, I forgot the rest of you didn't know her. She's the one who helped me with the dog problem. I know you remember the cake and sitting up with me."

"Of course. So your friend has…?"

"No, she's still on our side of the veil. She's such a quality psychic we can talk without the preliminary of dying."

Klaus went on, apparently to someone near the foot of the bed, "This is little Number Five." He paused. "Well, Ben would tell you that—oh, yes, Ben, say it yourself, I forgot." Klaus turned to Number Five again. "Madame Zofiya can hear Ben. We're having a three-way conversation."

Klaus's breath smelled of cinnamon. "Can I have some cinnamon candy?" asked Number Five.

"Oh, no, this stuff is too strong for you. Here." Klaus leaned over and opened a drawer in his nightstand. "I'll get you some Smarties—a couple of these will just give you a pleasant buzz."

"I was hoping for cinnamon."

Klaus glanced at the sleeping Diego and said softly, "Diego doesn't know that I know, but he stashed some of the Red Hots that come in boxes instead of in a bottle, under my mattress." Klaus leaned sideways, fiddled for a minute and brought up a flattened box. "Here, little brother. These won't hurt you."

Number Five sucked Red Hots. Through half-lidded eyes he saw Mistie tilt her head, stand, stretch, then bow her head and arch her back as if someone was stroking her. Five closed his eyes and was drowsy and comfortable when a nauseating, nameless dread ran down inside his chest, and in a moment the awful feeling became sharp and recognizable. He sat up, shaking, staring frantically. "Where's Dolores?"

"Here, honey." Her voice came from beyond the foot of the bed.

Klaus nodded in that direction. "There she is."

"Yeah, I hear her now," said Number Five. The fear washed away in waves and left him chilled, but relaxed. He sat up farther. The faint light in the room came from a night-light plugged into the wall.

Dolores sat in a wicker chair, cuddled up with a white fake-fur blanket and a throw pillow at her back. Now Number Five remembered Klaus tucking Dolores in and letting her pick out the record.

Dolores laughed.

Number Five asked, "What's funny?"

"Something Ben said."

"You can hear Ben?"

"I have hidden talents," said Dolores. "As you like to say yourself, everybody has a little bit of every power. But I'm better than average at listening."

"You're right," said Number Five. "I love you."

"I love you, too," said Klaus and Dolores at the same time.

"I was talking to Dolores," Number Five said to Klaus, "but I love you, too."

Klaus said, "I'll tell him," and then he and Dolores both said, "Ben says he loves you."

"Love you, Ben," said Number Five.

Klaus asked, "You okay now, buddy? I'm speaking to you, Number Five. Do you need Dolores in bed with us?"

Number Five looked to her for her answer. "Do you want to get into bed?"

"I'll be fine just like this until breakfast." said Dolores. "You can go back to sleep,"

Number Five let his head sink to the pillow, but that didn't give him enough contact with his brother. He moved his cheek to Klaus's ribs, put his arm around Klaus's waist, and closed his eyes.

************

Klaus dropped a hand onto Number Five's upper arm. Ben and Madame Zofiya stood near the bed, chatting; Klaus could barely get a word in. Madame was petting Mistie with a nearly invisible, faintly glimmering hand, and the cat purred and pushed into the caress.

In the dim light, Dolores looked alive. Her expression was sweet, and because of the direction in which her painted eyes were looking, she seemed to be alert to what Ben and Madame Zofiya were saying.

Mistie jumped from the bed to the floor and curved figure eights around Madame Zofiya's intangible ankles. At the slight _thump_ of Mistie's paws hitting the floor, Diego stirred.

He started to turn over, but there wasn't room on his patch of the mattress. He slid out of bed, stood up, stretched, and lay on his side again, this time facing Number Five. Diego asked, "Everything okay?"

Klaus nodded.

Diego gazed down at Number Five. "This is still a little hard to believe." He leaned over Five's shoulder and took a quick look at his face, settled back and placed his palm on the quilt over Number Five's back. "That he's home, and that he's letting us touch him."

Klaus cupped Number Five's bare shoulder in his palm and stroked him with his thumb. "I used to be so afraid of seeing him like this. I mean, after some time had passed, I thought he would appear, looking just the same—like this. I was scared that I would be the only one who could see him. Our father badgered me: 'Have you seen him? Is he dead? If he's dead, we're all lost.' I decided that if I saw Number Five, I wasn't going to tell Father. But Number Five is here, and you all see him, too. Look at him, he's really here."

"I'm really here, too," said Ben. He stood at Klaus's side, having abandoned for the moment his conversation with Madame Zofiya.

Klaus lifted a hand, but didn't quite touch Ben's arm, and Ben folded his arms and frowned.

"Ben, I'm working on it."

Ben's expression turned wary. "You never say that. You always put me off."

"I'm not putting you off, buddy. I'm working on it. I am."

Ben sat on the bed. He had no weight with which to indent the quilt nor bend the mattress. He opened his arms. Klaus made the motions of a hug, but he couldn't feel Ben's jacket, and he hovered his hands so the hug would appear genuine even though he couldn't give Ben any real touch.

Ben went ahead with the hug. He leaned through Klaus and made a frustrated sound. Then he started back and his shocked expression drew Klaus's attention to Ben's hand.

Ben's fingertips pressed into, but not through, the shell of Five's ear. The pad of Ben's thumb tugged at the corner of Number Five's eyebrow, forming a wrinkle in his skin.

Number Five's brow twitched in his sleep, and he frowned. He reached up and covered Ben's hand with his own, took it off of his temple and placed it on Klaus's hip. Klaus couldn't feel Ben's hand, but Number Five patted it, and his palm did not contact Klaus's hip. Then Number Five, with his eyes still closed, tucked his own hands against Klaus's skin again.

Klaus began to shiver.

Ben backed off slowly. He told Klaus, in a tone he was clearly working to keep steady, "Don't be afraid."

Klaus couldn't speak. He nodded. He and Ben put their fingertips together, and Klaus could feel nothing. Ben wiggled his fingers and stared hard at Klaus’s hand. "That was you," said Ben. "I put my arm around you, and you did something to it—I still couldn't hold onto you, but I could feel Five. You did something to my arm. I felt something go from you into me."

Klaus and Ben tried to lace their fingers together, but Ben flowed up past Klaus's knuckles. Ben withdrew his hand, sighing. "We'll keep working on it. I'm going to say goodnight now, okay? Grandma Zofiya is going to let me taste some tea."

Still Klaus could only nod. Ben disappeared, and so did the glittery shape that was Madame Zofiya. Mistie hopped back up onto the bed and kneaded the quilt.

Klaus's hands jittered as he got the lid off of his pill bottle on the bedside table, shook a few Red Hots out and put them on his tongue. He looked over at Diego. In a few moments he found his voice. "Ben got himself promoted to grandson."

"That's nice," said Diego. "Want to tell me what in the hell you're talking about?"

Klaus shuffled around to face Diego, supported himself with one elbow on a pillow, and cuddled Number Five with his other arm. "Sure. Want to stay up with me and talk all night?"

_The End_


End file.
